The Sorcerer's Stone With A Twist
by PollySmiles
Summary: Harry Potter is the only person ever to have survived the killing curse... or is he really? Meet Polly Smiles, the girl who lived as well. - This is my first ever fanfiction, so bear with me. AU version of year 1.
1. The Girl Who Lived As Well

**AN: This is my first ever fan-fiction so bear with me! Basically, I'm taking the 7 Harry Potter books and adding a character of my own to them. Polly Smiles. So, I guess you could consider this and alternate universe fan-fiction because this is what would've gone down if Polly had been a part of Harry's world. I apologize if there are long gaps between posting, but I've got 7 books to reread, rewrite, and many classes with homework to juggle. Still, I hope you enjoy this new twist on the **_**Sorcerer's Stone**_** and my very own original character. Reviews are **_**greatly**_** appreciated. =]**

**Disclaimer: It's quite obvious I'm not Ms. Rowling. If I **_**was**_** this is how I would have written the books. I don't own any of her characters and no profit is being made. I **_**do**_** own Polly Smiles, but that's another matter entirely. Also, some phrases may have been pulled out of **_**The Sorcerer's Stone**_** but I'm going to try and keep this as original as possible.**

Chapter One – The Girl Who Lived As Well

Far from the happenings at 4 Privet Drive, Polly Smiles lay snugly in the arms of Severus Snape. She cooed against his traditional mourning robes, causing the corner of his eye to glisten a single tear.

Hours earlier he had been assigned the task of entering Godric's Hollow to retrieve the infant girl. The sight before his eyes was overwhelming to say the least. _Both in one night_, he thought sullenly. The single tear traveled down an invisible track on his cheek and plopped itself onto Polly's forehead.

Professor Snape gazed at the shimmering liquid for a moment before gently kissing it off. Polly stared up at the man with curious violet eyes and smiled her mother's smile. His own lips twitched in to a rare grin. "There, now," he spoke softly to her. "Everything's going to be okay. Professor Dumbledore will be here shortly."

As if speaking the name was a summoning charm, two loud _cracks_ came from behind the potion's master and Albus Dumbledore appeared alongside his deputy headmistress.

"Good evening, Severus," the half-moon spectacled man smiled.

Snape nodded curtly, "Evening, Headmaster. Professor."

Professor McGonagall politely acknowledged Snape before arguing with her employer for the second time that night. "I have to protest, sir! Leaving Mr. Potter with a family of half-brained Muggles is one thing, but to leave the girl _here_? Surely there is a better choice!"

"Lucius is her uncle, Minerva."

"But he is not the only family she has!"

"And we must be the only ones ever to know this."

Professor McGonagall's eyes flickered to Snape for a brief second. On instinct, he pressed the child closer to his body protectively. "Sir," he whispered. "Please."

Professor Dumbledore could see the pleading, the will to do whatever necessary, in his employees' eyes, but he shook his head. "There will be time in the future, Severus."

"Sir…" Professor McGonagall tried one last time.

Dumbledore held his aged hand up. "She will not be poisoned by his ways, if that is what you fear."

She fell silent and reluctantly nodded her head.

"How can you be sure?" Snape inquired.

"When she reaches the age of understanding, I will be the one to teach Miss Smiles. She will be under my guidance before her name ever appears on our role."

Snape lowered his head, "I still fear for her."

Dumbledore rested a hand on the troubled wizard's shoulders. "As do we all, but I assure you she will prove to be a remarkable, young witch." At that moment, the three professors approached the gates of Malfoy Manor, triggering a signaling spell that, at once, was replied with a platinum-haired man walking cautiously toward them.

"What is the meaning of this?" Lucius Malfoy spoke quietly with a hint of annoyance. Usually he'd threaten anyone who dared to call on him at this late hour but was once again intimidated by the wizened wizard and his striking blue eyes.

Polly began crying, sensing the sudden chill in the air. Dumbledore raised the girl out of Snape's reluctant arms and rocked her tenderly. "I'm afraid I have bad news for you," the headmaster spoke calmly. "May we enter?"

Seeing no way to turn down the request, Lucius removed the gate's protective ward and allowed the professors and child entrance.

They didn't speak until in the privacy of the manor's sitting room, where a tired Narcissa tried to calm her restless baby boy. Her husband went immediately to their side and watched the guests carefully.

Dumbledore smiled at them, "Good evening, Mrs. Malfoy. Is young Draco having trouble falling asleep?"

She didn't answer, but gave her husband a confused and terrified look.

"I suppose there is no nice way to put this," the old man continued, "so I think I shall make this as blunt as possible." He stared pointedly at Lucius. "Mr. and Mrs. Smiles are dead."

Lucius sensed that wasn't all. "And?"

A confused look appeared on Dumbledore's face. "Why, Lucius, I must say I expected more of a reaction from you. She was your sister, after all. Well, I suppose the time for mourning will be later. In the meantime I have to ask you to take guardianship over your niece."

"I will not," the elder Malfoy said defiantly. "I will not care for the daughter of a blood-traitorous family."

"I don't understand how you could call Lucinda a blood-traitor when she married a pureblood just as your parents had requested, but, then again, I never understood your ways to begin with."

"Lucy lived among Muggles. Befriended them and mudbl-" he caught himself, "Muggle-borns alike. She is as blood-traitorous as Narcissa's sister and I will _not_ to what you ask."

"I am afraid there is no choice in the matter, Lucius."

Lucius swallowed. "What do you mean?"

"Minerva, I wonder if you might receive Miss Smiles from me. She's getting so big for my aged arms," said Dumbledore warmly.

Professor McGonagall was delighted. "Of course, sir!" She held Polly lovingly and made her laugh like any mother might.

Lucius felt sick. He turned to his wife who was watching the baby girl carefully. Draco, young though he was, almost looked jealous of his laughing cousin. "Headmaster, if you please," Lucius urged.

"Yes, of course," Dumbledore smiled. He reached into his purple robes and pulled out an aged paper. Adjusting his spectacles, the old wizard read aloud. "'The Last Will and Testament of Mrs. Lucinda Rosalind Smiles née Malfoy.'" He looked to the Malfoys for their approval and when they said nothing so he cleared his throat and continued. "Yes, well, it states that all worldly possessions are to be left to Polly Serena Smiles and that in the event Polly should be orphaned, you, Lucius Malfoy, have been named her guardian."

Lucius's face flushed to a paler white. "I won't."

Dumbledore merely chuckled. "This is your signature is it not?"

Everyone's attention turned to the elaborate blood-red script on the bottom of the page. The capital letters "L" and "M" dwarfed the ones it followed in a fashion only Lucius was known for.

"So?"

"Curious things, your family's wills. Very intricate magic woven into the written words. It would appear that, since this is _your_ signature in _your _blood, you have given your word to agree to these terms, or else forfeit your life."

Narcissa stood immediately with a startled Draco on one hip. "No!" she gasped.

"There is no choice, Madame. Your husband has, shall we say, made an unbreakable vow in signing his name to this will."

"This is outrageous!" stated Lucius.

"You have no one to blame but yourself, Lucius, and your family's strange use of curses." Dumbledore replied calmly.

"How dare you!" Lucius boomed, his ears turning redder by the minute. "How dare you insult my family in my own home!"

"Not your family, Lucius. Just their methods."

"Darling," Narcissa placed a wary hand on her husband's shoulder. "Sweetheart, we can take in another. We have room. We have funds. Draco can have a playmate and…"

"Our son will _not_ be influenced by… by _that_." he growled.

"_That_ happens to be a girl!" snapped Professor McGonagall. "And believe me, if it weren't for that confounded will, you would never have been _considered_ for the custody of this child! Why, she'd be better off living with another beastly Muggle family than here where you can poison her mind you- y-you _fiend_!"

"That'll do, Minerva," Dumbledore eyed her.

Lucius was seething anger from every one of his pores. "I'll have you know that I can take better care of a child than any… _Muggle_ might."

"Then take her," Snape said, surprising everyone in the room. "Take good care of her."

Lucius smirked. "And why should I answer the pleas of a coward?"

"Don't call me a coward," Snape's dark eyes narrowed.

"Steady, Severus," Dumbledore comforted knowingly. He turned back to the Malfoys. "There's no point in arguing further. You either accept responsibility of the Miss Smiles or lose your life."

Narcissa watched her husband pleadingly, squeezing his shoulder. He sighed in defeat. "Very well."

"Ah! Wonderful!" Dumbledore clapped his hands together.

"May I have the will?" Lucius asked.

"Perhaps later," Dumbledore replied. "I'll be needing it to give to the Ministry. Legal purposes, you understand." He tucked the will safely in his robes. "Minerva?" Professor McGonagall reluctantly handed over the wide-eyed child.

Dumbledore smiled at Polly. "I'll see you soon, Miss Smiles."

She tugged lightly on his silvery beard. "Bye," she giggled.

"Smart girl," the headmaster laughed, which Narcissa haughtily responded to by holding her own son closer.

As Dumbledore handed the little witch to her disgusted uncle, Snape's dark eyes caught hers. She smiled and waved to him, causing a lump to form in his throat.

Severus Snape was not the kind of man to break down in front of others. He politely excused himself from the manor, reached the outside of the wards, and apparated to Godric's Hollow. Tears filled his eyes but he refused to let them fall. Instead, he focused on what he was supposed to find.

By now there were dozens of witches and wizards standing outside the home of Lily and James Potter, mourning their death and honoring their son. Snape snuck around to the back of the house and walked up to that cursed nursery for his third time. Luckily, the bodies had been removed earlier that day. He peered into the unknown second cradle and found what Dumbledore had asked him to: a small, crescent moon-shaped pendant dangling on an ancient-looking chain. It burned his skin with a mixture of protective and dark magic. Snape quickly dropped it into a pouch which he held close to him for a few moments.

From the front lawn he heard many exclaim the wonders of "Harry Potter – the boy who lived!" when little did they know that at this very moment, being arranged to live with her own aunt and uncle, was Polly Smiles – the girl who lived as well.


	2. The Vanishing Glass

**AN: I'd like to clear a few things up. First of all, I do **_**NOT**_** want Polly to become a Mary Sue any more than you want her to. Mary Sues are beyond annoying and I will do all I can to prevent that. That being said, please understand that this is a "new" series (meaning it's meant to be a whole new twist on **_**Harry Potter**_**) so if she seems to steal the spotlight, it's because, well, it's not exactly **_**Harry Potter**_** anymore… if that makes sense.**

**A couple other notes, um, Polly is very smart for her age. You're going to see many similarities between her and the Golden Trio pretty soon and I'm doing that on purpose, not just copying off of JKR's characters. I wanted Polly to be a mixture of the three but most similar to Harry.**

**Disclaimer: Once again, if I were Ms. Rowling the books would be written as follows. I don't own any of her characters and no profit is being made. I **_**do**_** own Polly Smiles, but that's another matter entirely. Some phrases and dialogue, as well as the chapter title, has been pulled out of **_**The Sorcerer's Stone**_** in order to keep things as accurate as possible (and because it makes me feel like I'm actually working with Ms. Rowling). :D**

Chapter Two – The Vanishing Glass

Polly woke up with a start to the sound of a house elf's apparition into her room. She rolled over and stared at the little elf whose large eyes were admiring the emerald dress Polly was sewing for her aunt.

"Yes, Dobby?" said Polly sleepily.

Slightly startled, Dobby bowed politely. "My apologies, Miss Smiles." He rubbed the green fabric between his fingers, "Dobby does admire your clothes so very much."

Polly sat up and smiled kindly. "It's not mine, it's for Aunt Narcissa and not very good, I'm afraid. Your cousin, Tippy, only started teaching me to sew last week."

The tiny elf sighed. "Dobby wishes he could try it on."

"And I wish I could try it on you," she comforted, "but we'd both get into trouble."

"Yes, Miss." Dobby turned his attention away from the clothes. "Master Malfoy has instructed Dobby to tell you that Master wishes to see you at seven." He glanced at the clock hanging on the bare, colorless wall. The minute hand was just past the twelve. "Dobby has made Miss Smiles late!"

Polly knew what was about to happen. She jumped up to hold the house elf back before he could grab the sewing needles off her desk. "No! Dobby, don't!" she yelled. He slapped himself in the face while she tried to pin his arms down, which, despite the notable difference in size, was proving to be difficult. "Stop it," she finally said sternly.

Dobby relaxed in her arms. "Dobby is sorry, Miss."

"I know." She let him go. "Now hurry to the kitchens and no self-flagellation along the way."

"Yes, Miss." He disapparated with a small but grateful smile.

Polly now hurried to change into one of many old and too short robes. She ran out of her room that was barely big enough to fit a bed, wardrobe, and desk and past her cousin's where Tippy was busy sweeping, straightening, and polishing Draco's numerous baubles. Resisting the urge to slide down the banister, Polly skipped down the staircase two stairs at a time, crossed the main foyer, and reached the doorway to the dining hall where Narcissa and Draco ate their breakfasts silently.

"He's waiting for you in the study." was all Narcissa said before turning back to reading the latest _Witch Weekly_. Draco simply stared at his eggs, not making any eye contact at all.

Polly nodded. "Thank you, ma'am." She took a deep breath, poised herself, and walked out to the end of another long hall.

"Mudwallower," the portrait of Abraxas Malfoy, Lucius's father, drawled.

"Ugly old git," Polly muttered under her breath.

"Your mother deserved it!" the portrait shouted at her.

Instantly the curtains displayed around his frame caught fire. "No!" Polly shouted. She tore them off their hooks and stomped out the blaze before it could get out of hand.

"Lucius!" Abraxas cried. "My son, did you see what she did?"

When Polly looked up from the ground she saw a silhouette standing in the study's doorway. "I'm sorry, sir," she spoke nervously. "I couldn't control it. I don't know how yet."

"Dobby," Lucius ordered.

Instantly the house elf appeared in front and bowed. "Yes, Master?"

"Clean up this mess and fetch Father some new curtains."

"Yes, Master."

Polly gave Dobby a look of apology before walking cautiously into the room to which her uncle had retreated.

"You're late," he said, sitting in the chair behind his desk. "Or was the fault that elf's in giving you the message?"

"It's my fault," Polly stood, defending her friend. "I lingered in the halls."

"You'll have kitchen duty then," said Lucius, not even looking up from his papers.

Lucius offered three types of punishments for Polly. There was the physical beating, which he used sparingly because he felt a man of his disposition having to hit a child was uncouth. There was the typical having privileges taken away, which, since she was barely given any privileges in the first place, usually meant she couldn't go to the library or had to skip a meal. And then there was kitchen duty. Malfoy Manor was undoubtedly huge for a family of three, two house elves, and a ten-year-old witch. Its kitchen was unnecessarily as big as half a Quidditch field. To have kitchen duty meant to spend a good hour or two scrubbing, scraping, and otherwise cleaning up after the messy (but good-hearted) house elves.

Polly inwardly groaned, "Yes, sir."

She turned to leave and head there immediately but Lucius stopped her. "Not yet, you stupid girl!" he called exasperatedly. "You were ordered in here for a reason!"

Turning around quickly, Polly stood in front of her uncle yet again. "Yes, sir?"

"An owl came for you this morning."

Her face instantly lit up. "For _me_, sir?"

Lucius glared at her with cold, grey eyes. "_Yes_. I believe that's what I said…" Polly swallowed the urge to ask who it was from and waited for her uncle to say what he wanted to. He reached into one of his drawers and pulled out the letter in question, hesitant in handing it to her. Then he held it out, but stopped short of her awaiting hand and set it back on his desk. "It's from Professor Dumbledore," he gave her a suspicious look.

She kept her face in its stoic expression, but her heart now pounded with excitement. Once every year since she was first able to read, Polly had received a letter from the esteemed headmaster of Hogwarts, inquiring if she was well and how she was being treated. She enjoyed reading these letters more than anything in the world and would write back to the headmaster all she could without upsetting her uncle (who would review them before they were sent).

Perhaps what was upsetting her uncle was that the letter was a month early? Polly thought. Lucius seemed more troubled by this letter than any of the previous ones. It didn't surprise Polly that he had already opened and read it, but she wondered why he was so uncertain about giving it to her.

Lucius tried to read her face for an explanation (or confession) of some sort but, finding nothing useful, sighed and gave her the envelope. She didn't dare walk away to read it by herself, so Polly tenderly pulled the folded parchment out and read:

_Miss Smiles,_

_As always, I hope you are well and that you're challenging yourself with all that reading. You must tell me how __Dracula_ _ended. I would have read it myself but Fawkes had another burning day. Unfortunately my copy of the book was beside his stand and I haven't had the time to purchase myself a new edition._

_Now for the matter at hand, as I'm sure you are aware, this letter is early in comparison to our previous correspondences. I have a bit of a favor to ask of you. I would like you to go to Chessington's World of Adventure near Surrey this morning. They have some new exhibits in their reptile house and I was hoping you could describe them for me._

_Anxiously awaiting your descriptions on both __Dracula__ and the new exhibits,_

_Professor Dumbledore_

Well it was certainly shorter than usual, she thought. Polly looked up at her still suspicious looking uncle. He raised an eyebrow at her, making his face look more pointed.

"I don't understand either, sir," she shook her head in sincere confusion. "Professor Dumbledore has never asked me to perform any favors like this before."

"You're sure?" Lucius leaned forward.

Polly nodded. "Absolutely, sir."

Lucius sighed and relaxed back into his chair. "Nevertheless, I've set up a portkey to take you…" he gave a confused and disgusted look at the letter again, "_there_. It leaves in," he glanced at his desk clock, "twelve minutes. Tippy has laid suitable clothing out for you upstairs. Get dressed and come back down here and I will give you the portkey which will activate again at around noon. That should give you plenty of time. Upon returning to the manor you're to wash up immediately and head straight to kitchen duty, is that understood?"

Polly could hardly control her excitement. He was letting her go out for the day! Unaccompanied! "Yes, sir!" She caught herself and cleared her throat. "I mean, yes, sir. I understand."

"You're dismissed, then. And you now have eleven minutes."

As soon as she left the study, Polly bolted past Abraxas's disagreeable portrait and up the stairs.

When Polly reached her own bedroom, she tore off her robes and slipped on the black and grey plaid skirt, polo, and blazer Tippy had set out for her. In truth, it was probably one of the nicest looking outfits Polly had ever worn in her life.

Seeing she still had eight minutes, Polly held Dumbledore's letter to her only window and saw the small "I" magically appear on the corner of the paper. Being educated in many magical spells and secret codes by the books Professor Dumbledore would suggest to her, one day Polly discovered this "I" on one of his letters. Her uncle always did a thorough check on her mail, making sure no secret codes were being magically passed between the two, but, being so stuck in his pureblood ways, Lucius failed to check for common, Muggle invisible ink. This is what the "I" symbolized.

Polly searched one of her drawers for the invisible ink solution she had made and distributed it evenly on the parchment. A small paragraph appeared beneath the visible script.

_Miss Smiles, you clever girl, I wonder how long we'll be able to get away with this. I would like you to look around the zoo for a boy of about ten years old. He would have black hair, green eyes, and glasses, I would imagine. I would like you to meet him. His name is Harry, although it would perhaps be wise to not tell him you know his name. Yes, this is Harry Potter, the boy we've discussed previously through our invisible conversations. Just meet him, that it all._

Shocked and slightly confused, Polly stuffed the revealing letter at the bottom of a drawer and headed downstairs to retrieve the portkey. Yes, she had heard of Harry Potter. Who hadn't? But why would Dumbledore need her to meet him?

Minutes later, Polly stood outside the door to the reptile house and looked around. It was still pretty early, she figured, so she sat on a nearby bench and attempted to sketch a couple on the pad of paper she brought along. Deciding she was no good at drawing, however, Polly let her thoughts wander to the famous Harry Potter - the boy she was about to meet.

Lucius didn't like discussing the boy. The first time Polly stated how much she admired Harry was when she'd received her first lashing. Her knuckles still felt sore whenever she thought of the walking stick that struck them all while Lucius embedded into her mind that "though Dark Lord is dead, he is to always be feared."

Dumbledore, on the other hand, wrote to her stating there was no reason to fear Voldemort. At first, Polly was shocked by how the headmaster used the name so loosely, but grew used to it and even began to use it herself. "Voldemort," she smiled to herself. "I'm not afraid of you or your name."

Hours passed as Polly walked around the zoo for a while. She'd never been allowed outside the manor unaccompanied before, much less gone to a zoo, and reveled in the sense of freedom and marvelous creatures.

By ten o'clock, she decided she should probably write down the species' names so she could show her uncle later. The reptile house was crowded as usual but this didn't disturb her. She slipped past a blonde woman with a long neck and peered at the tablet for the Brazilian boa constrictor.

"Make it move," a stout boy with blond hair whined to his similarly stout father.

The boy's father tapped on the glass with his knuckles, but the snake slept on.

"Do it again," the boy ordered. Polly rolled her eyes.

This time father rapped the glass but the snake didn't even twitch. "This is boring," the boy sauntered away with his parents and scrawny, rat-faced friend.

Without the considerably large group in the way, their leave revealed another scrawny-looking boy with oversized clothes and taped glasses. His unkempt, jet black hair fell into his eyes that, Polly could just barely tell, glinted green. _Harry Potter_.

Harry moved in front of the tank and looked intently at the snake. Polly's stomach twisted in nervous knots as she inched closer to the famous boy, wondering if she ought to introduce herself. "You can't blame it for wanting to sleep all day," was all she said.

Surprised he was even being talked to, Harry stuttered back, "Er, yeah." He looked at Polly curiously and she could barely see the famous scar beneath his bangs. "I mean," he cleared his throat, "I'm sorry, yes. I wouldn't be surprised if it died of boredom."

"Exactly," she smiled a little. "No company except people trying to make it move all day."

"I sort of know the feeling," Harry mumbled, thinking of his cupboard.

Polly tilted her head to side. Harry Potter not having company? Was that possible for a boy so legendary? "How so?" she inquired.

"I, er," he looked at the girl's sincere expression and, having never a friend in his life, suddenly felt like telling her everything. He noticed she had an intriguing pair of violet eyes, auburn hair that billowed down to the small of her back, and had such a tiny figure, that, if he hadn't known better, Harry would have guessed she'd had the Dursley treatment as well.

Noticing his long pause, Polly stammered, "Oh, if you don't have to answer if you don't want to, I was only curious."

"No, I," Harry paused again. There was something about this girl that made him feel safe, as if she had gone through life exactly as he had. As if she might be the only one who understood exactly how he felt. As if she might be just like him. "I…" Harry was about to explain to her how he slept in the cupboard under the stairs but was distracted by sudden movement in the tank.

The snake suddenly raised its head until its eyes were on a level with Harry and Polly's. And then it winked…

Though Polly had seen many strange things through living with the Malfoys, she had never seen a snake wink at her. Harry and Polly looked around to see if others were watching. No one seemed to notice. They looked at each other.

"You did see that, right?" she asked him. Harry nodded slowly.

The snake jerked his head toward the rude boy and his family and then raised its eyes to the ceiling. It gave a look that said: _"It happens all the time."_

While Polly looked on sympathetically, she heard Harry hiss strangely. He seemed to be conversing with the snake in a language that was entirely their own. Vaguely, Polly could remember her uncle saying something about snake-language, but what was it called?

_Parseltongue._

The snake nodded enthusiastically. Again, Harry made a low hissing sound. The two of them looked at the sign next to the tank and Harry hissed again. Polly felt goosebumps travel up her arms. Harry was a Parselmouth.

As the snake shook its head at whatever Harry was saying to it, a deafening shout came from behind making all three of them jump. "DUDLEY! MR. DURSLEY! COME AND LOOK AT THIS SNAKE! YOU WON'T _BELIEVE_ WHAT IT'S DOING!"

The porky boy and his friend hurried to the glass. "Out of the way, you," the larger of the two said, punching Harry in the ribs. Harry fell hard on the concrete floor and Polly immediately knelt by his side, an act of kindness that caught Harry by surprise.

"Are you okay?" she asked worriedly.

He nodded. "Happens all the time."

What came next happened so fast no one saw how it happened but only Polly could have guessed accurately. Enraged by the large boy's punch, Harry's accidental and underage magic struck again. One second, the beastly boys were leaning right up close to the glass, the next, they had leapt back screaming.

Harry sat up and gasped. The tank's glass had vanished into thin air and the boa constrictor slithered out onto the floor. Many visitors started screaming as well and ran for the doors. The snake slid up to Harry and Polly and emitted a long, low hiss that only Harry could understand. It nodded slightly at Polly before slithering out the door.

"But the glass," the zookeeper said, "where did the glass go?"

The large man and blonde woman peered at Harry who was still on the ground. Polly helped him stand but before he could thank her properly the man grabbed Harry by his ear and followed the zookeeper into an office. Harry glanced back at the girl one more time and she mouthed an "I'm sorry." He smiled gently at her.

"Parselmouth," she said quietly to herself.

"I thought something like that would happen in here," a kind, old voice said from behind.


	3. The Extra Letter

**AN: Thanks to the loverly reviews. I do enjoy reading them. Um… I didn't really like writing this chapter much, but it'll do. It gets much more interesting when Polly starts interacting with the Golden Trio, but that won't be for a while yet, so bear with me.**

**Disclaimer: Not mine. **_**Quite**_ **obvious. Polly is though, and I'm very proud of her. :)**

Chapter Three – The Extra Letter

Polly whirled around and saw none other than Albus Dumbledore. Though she had never seen the man in person before, she recognized him immediately from the many _Daily Prophet _articles. A smile spread across her face as the headmaster held his arms open for her. She ran to hug him, a gesture that, for most Hogwarts students, would be entirely informal, but to her it was like hugging a friend. Actually, you could say Dumbledore was the only friend she had outside the world of house elves and her equally-lonely cousin, but to call Draco a "friend" was a stretch.

"The last time you were in my arms," he said, "I was handing you over to your uncle, unfortunately."

Polly laughed quietly at the light joke and stepped out of the embrace. "I don't remember that night."

"Well, I'm not surprised. You were only a year old, after all," Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. From somewhere down the hall, an unintelligible shout echoed through the empty reptile house. Dumbledore placed a hand on Polly's shoulder and directed her to the exit. "Let us venture outside, shall we?"

As they walked, Polly explained to the headmaster the end of _Dracula_ with little difficulty. Growing up in Malfoy Manor taught Polly Smiles three things:

1. Mudbloods were the lowest of the low.

2. Polly parents were "traitorous, cowardly Mudwallowers and deserved what they got."

3. The only way Polly could learn properly in that house was through reading, her only escape.

Malfoy Manor had a vast library in the east wing that Polly would spend most of her time in after finishing her daily chores. Needless to say, the majority of books found in that library taught the values of Purebloods and the Dark Arts. She didn't learn about Muggles until she was six years old and given a new assignment.

Once a week her guardians would send her to Diagon Alley to pick up various bits and bobs – usually new dress robes or specific potions ingredients. If done correctly and efficiently, Polly would receive one Sickle. If she managed to haggle the price lower, she would receive two, but that rarely happened.

Still, her weekly trips to Diagon Alley introduced her to Flourish and Blotts and the many books Polly had never heard of. The first book she was able to purchase - after months of saving up Sickles - was _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_. She read all the tales in a single day, which was a good thing because Lucius found the book not too long after and burned it, calling it "filthy" for the way it taught Wizards to interact with and treat Muggles like equals.

That was the night Lucius explained to her how lucky she was to be Pureblooded but how foolish it was for her parents to mingle with the Muggles and Mudbloods. He described the Purebloods as if they were royalty and the Half-bloods, Blood-traitors, Mudbloods, and Muggles as if they were swine. And, though she had never even been around a Muggle before, he ended his rant by labeling her and her parents a "Mudwallower" - a word he would never choose to use publicly.

Polly was born into a world of prejudice against her, and she had never done anything.

They sat on a bench in front of the gorillas and Polly couldn't help but notice they reminded her of the large boy who had punched Harry. Muggles eyed the headmaster's attire suspiciously but shrugged it off. Dumbledore reached into his maroon robes and pulled out a handful of sweets. "Care for lemon drop?" he asked kindly. For a second, she felt her jaw drop. Polly had never been offered sweets before. She nodded and unwrapped the lemon drop eagerly, then popped it into her mouth, savoring the sour sweetness.

"How has your family been treating you?" inquired Dumbledore.

She shrugged, not knowing how to answer. If her uncle ever found out she spoke out against him, she'd receive triple the usual lashings _and_ a week of kitchen duty.

Sensing this, the headmaster patted her shoulder. "Whatever you tell me will remain strictly between the two of us."

"Well," said Polly, feeling slightly better, "it's not like they lock me in a dungeon and starve me, but they don't necessarily feed me, either. They order the house elves to care for me, which I don't mind. Dobby and Tippy are my friends, but they're my only friends. Besides you, of course. And Draco. But Draco and I aren't allowed to play together."

"And how is your relationship with your cousin?"

"Well, we talk. Whenever we get the chance, actually, which isn't often and usually in secret. He knows he's not supposed to because I'm a Mudwallower, but-"

"Don't call yourself that," Dumbledore said strictly.

"Sorry," she lowered her head.

Dumbledore took pity on the girl. "You grew up in a terrible environment." He picked up one of her hands and stared at the markings on her knuckles from where Lucius had beat her with his walking stick. "Where did these come from?"

"Uncle Lucius," her head lowered even more, and she folded her hands in her lap, embarrassed.

Professor Dumbledore sighed and stood. "Polly, I have a few more questions for you, if you don't mind. Questions I couldn't put into a letter because there is a lot of explaining to do."

Curious and slightly afraid, Polly nodded.

"Do you have any idea why I asked you to meet young Harry today?"

"No, sir," she shook her head. "I'm really confused."

"What can you tell me about him?"

"Well, sir, he seems just as hungry as I am. Those Muggles, is that the family he lives with?"

"I'm afraid so," Dumbledore said with a sigh. "It's a shame. I did hope they might take him in as their own, but some people simply refuse to accept those who are different."

"There's something else..." Polly bit her bottom lip in a worried manner.

"Yes?"

"Harry's a Parselmouth, sir. That's _very_ different, isn't it?" she asked. "I mean, I grew up with the Malfoys and they've been in Slytherin for ages, but, even to Slytherins, Parseltongue is extremely rare."

"Indeed," he nodded slowly. "I've been doing some studying on Mr. Potter and his encounter with the Dark Lord. Very peculiar theories have emerged, Polly. Very peculiar. My dear," he looked up as if searching for the right words, which, to anyone who knew him, for Dumbledore to be at a loss for words was unheard of, "I suspect you and Harry will find you have much in common." He paused again, "Do you know how your parents died?"

Polly stood. "Uncle Lucius said they were killed messing around with a Muggle contraption. An airplane, I think, is what he said." The lemon drop was sharp enough to cut her tongue now. She crunched it into a sticky, lemon powder and swallowed.

Dumbledore frowned, "Your uncle is an avid liar. There's really no easy way to break this to you, so allow me to be frank. You parents were murdered... by Voldemort."

Even the gorillas seemed to stop their hooting at the Dark Lord's name. Polly's violet eyes shot wider than they were probably capable. A thousand and one emotions set in at once. Anger towards her uncle for lying, hatred towards Voldemort for taking away a chance at a Malfoy-free life. For taking away her mum and dad. All these emotions overflowed in a fit of tears.

Professor Dumbledore handed the girl a handkerchief and hugged her. She felt silly blubbering into the wizards robes. With all her abuse, Polly taught herself how to cry quietly and privately so as to avoid her uncle, but the information was too much. She had been orphaned by the same man her uncle taught her to respect.

"There, there now," Dumbledore comforted. "Crying is not a crime, Polly, and there will be plenty of time for it later. But for now, I need you to be strong, and I understand that's asking a lot, but I have the utmost confidence you can do it."

Polly looked up into his friendly, blue eyes and suddenly felt empowered. Dumbledore, _the_ Albus Dumbledore had confidence in her. He _needed_, not wanted, her to be strong. For something important. She straightened up and wiped her cheeks with the handkerchief. For a ten year old, she seemed to have instantly matured. "What's happening, sir?"

"How much time do you have left?" he asked.

Polly checked the clock on the zoo's tower and told Dumbledore that her portkey, a marble she'd stuffed in her sock, would take her to Malfoy Manor in less than ten minutes. Silently, she wished she could have a whole day left with the wizard, her idol for years.

"Then we musn't waste any time. Your cousin is eleven, correct?"

"Yes, sir."

"And you will turn eleven on September the twelfth, yes?"

"Yes, sir."

"I see, so you understand you cannot go to Hogwarts just yet as your birthday is past our deadline."

With a heavy heart because she knew it meant living another year at Malfoy Manor and this time without Draco, Polly replied, "Yes, sir."

"Polly," he paused, "would you consider joining me at Hogwarts a year early?"

Her eyebrows raised in surprise, "_Sir_?"

"There's a lot you need to learn, Miss Smiles. A lot more, I mean," he chuckled. She smiled. "In short, I believe you have a great destiny to fulfill."

Again, Polly was taken by surprise. "What? Who _me_? Excuse me, sir, but what do you mean?"

He gave her an inquisitive look. "As we are running out of time, I can't explain it to you now. I will be sending another letter with young Malfoy's requesting that you join me at Hogwarts as well. As... an apprentice, shall we say? We'll provide suitable living arrangements for you since you are not allowed to be sorted until next year. Perhaps we'll have you take first year lessons now, and that will allow you to take second year in your first year... Yes..." Polly had a feeling the professor wasn't talking to her anymore. "Private lessons, of course. I'm sure Minerva will be willing. Severus will be on edge about it all. Of course I'll have to inform the rest of the faculty, as well. Not of the entire situation but the importance of it. Oh, now there is so much to do." He turned to Polly. "I must take my leave, Miss Smiles."

He handed her another lemon drop and disapparated without any Muggles noticing.

Polly had less than a minute left. She hurried to a public restroom and gripped the marble in her palm, trying to figure out how her life had taken such a turnaround.

~ * ~

When Lucius saw the only thing she had on her paper was: **Boa Constrictor, Brazil** he slapped the back of her head and sent her to the kitchen for the duty she was assigned earlier. He also forbade her from going anywhere for two weeks except to pick up supplies from Diagon Alley which needed to be completed in fifteen minutes time and she would _not_ receive pay for them.

As she scrubbed spilled ingredients off the tiled floor (you really wouldn't believe how messy house elves can be), Polly thought about what Dumbledore said. About her parents being killed by Voldemort. About her having to fulfill a great destiny. About going to Hogwarts a year early and being Dumbledore's apprentice! She couldn't help smiling and Dobby couldn't help noticing.

"Miss is in a happy mood," he tilted his head curiously. "Miss is never in a happy mood when Master assigns kitchen duty."

"I had a good day, Dobby," she grinned.

"May Dobby ask why?"

"I went to the zoo." Polly knew she couldn't tell Dobby everything because Lucius had the power to order the information out of him. She trusted her little friend, but it was her uncle she couldn't.

Dobby seemed to accept this and nodded. "Dobby is sorry for the mess. Dobby tried out a new recipe today but Tippy and Dobby seemed to have made a mistake."

She smirked, looking at the contents on the floor which seemed to be a mixture of mashed potatoes and fish. "I can see that."

"Master told Dobby not to help you clean."

"I know, Dobby. It's okay."

Dobby started telling her about the recipe but Polly's mind was elsewhere. She thought about what her uncle would say when he discovered she had received a letter from Hogwarts as well.

It was a month later when she received her answer.

_Mr. D. Malfoy  
>Young Malfoy's Suite<br>Malfoy Manor  
>Wiltshire<em>

Both Draco and his parents were very pleased. That is, until another owl flew in with a similar envelope but with the message:

_Miss P. Smiles  
>Topmost Tower - Broom Cupboard<br>Malfoy Manor  
>Wiltshire<em>

Before Polly could lay her hands on it, they tore it open, revealing a different message than the standard welcome letter.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL

_of_ WITCHCRAFT _and_ WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,_

_Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

Dear Miss Smiles,

This is to inform you that on the day Mr. Draco Malfoy boards the Hogwarts Express, Professor Severus Snape will be waiting for you on Platform Nine and Three Quarters. From there, Professor Snape will escort you to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry whereupon arrival you will become a personal apprentice of Albus Dumbledore and be taken off your family's hands for the year. As Professor Dumbledore is sure your aunt and uncle would be more than happy to not have to take care of you for a year, he sees no trouble with this plan.

Enclosed is your key to your vault in Gringotts, which has been safely preserved by the Ministry all these years. Also enclosed is a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Please be at Platform Nine and Three Quarters on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

_Deputy Headmistress_

The Malfoys looked at each other, dumbstruck.

"That's not fair!" Draco shouted. "Polly's a year younger than I am!"

"Hush, Draco!" Lucius slapped the side of his son's head, upon which Draco ran up to his room in a fit of rage.

Narcissa placed a hand on her husband's shoulder. "Lucius..."

He ignored her and grabbed Polly by the wrists. "_Perhaps you'd like to explain_," he spat.

She bit her bottom lip to keep from crying out in pain. "Dumbledore visited me at the zoo!" she nearly screamed. "H-he said I should go to Hogwarts a year early to learn more!"

A smirk twitched on the corner of Lucius's mouth. He chuckled softly which grew into an almost maniacal laugh. Both Polly and her aunt watched him in horror.

Lucius gave a twisted grin. "You're not going," he sneered, and that was that.

That night, Polly lay in her bed and stared out the only window. The moon was bright and full and on the grounds she could see white peacocks strutting about. Usually the birds' silly habits made her giggle, but tonight she was in no mood. Her uncle could keep her from going to the library, from visiting Diagon Alley. He could lie to her about her parents' deaths, beat her 'til her knuckles split open, give her kitchen duty until she passed out into a wash bucket, but he could _not_ keep her from Hogwarts. All her life she had dreamed of her first day at Hogwarts, the house she would be sorted into, the classes she would take and friends she would make. She wanted out of there so badly.

There was a weak knock on her bedroom door which, at this time of night, could only be one person. "Come in," she replied softly.

Draco stuck his head through the crack and looked around, then tiptoed in and shut the door. "Polly?"

"Hm?" she drew her attention away from the moon and sat up to face him in his forest green pajamas.

He sat at the edge of her bed; his un-gelled, platinum hair fell all around his worried face. "Father told me he's not letting you go to Hogwarts," whispered Draco.

"That's what he thinks," she whispered back.

He looked at her, "You're going?"

"I hope so."

"But that's not _fair_," he groaned.

"To whom, Draco? To you? You're treated like a king around here!" she hissed. "If I were you I'd never want to leave, but as it turns out, I'm not. I'm treated like scum. The house elves feed and care for me, I've had to learn most everything myself. The sooner I'm free from here, the better."

Draco looked as if he was going to argue back, but instead sighed. "Sorry."

Polly smirked. "If your father only knew you were apologizing to _me_."

"I honestly don't want to think about it," he cringed, making Polly smile a little. "What house do you think you'll be sorted into?" he asked.

"I'm not going to be sorted," she said.

"What?"

"Well, I'm not technically a student yet so I can't."

"But, then…" his eyebrows furrowed. "So where will you sleep?"

She shrugged. "I dunno."

"Do you know anything?" Draco rolled his eyes jokingly.

Polly smirked and tossed her pillow at him. "I like to think so."

He threw the pillow back at her and they snickered quietly. Moments like these with her cousin made Malfoy Manor bearable.

Draco was a lot like his father. She knew that. He despised Mudbloods and Muggles and those who mingled with them, but, like Polly, Draco didn't understand why he couldn't be friends with his cousin. She was a Pureblood. She had _Malfoy_ blood in her. Her parents did the mingling. Draco liked Polly. She was the only person he knew he could _really_ talk to. Sure, he had his other friends, Crabbe and Goyle, but they were thick – both mentally and physically. Polly understood him, though. She didn't judge him by blood or name or wealth. She listened and he liked that about her. If his father ever found out, though… Draco shuddered at the thought.

Polly hugged the pillow to her stomach, hiding her tattered nightgown. "I'd ask you what house you'll be sorted into," she said, "but I suppose it's quite obvious."

Draco smirked. "Yeah, I suppose. Can you imagine if I were sorted into Hufflepuff? Or Gryffindor?"

Polly chuckled. "Don't worry, I'll be sure to attend your funeral."

"Oh, thanks," he drawled sarcastically. "Merlin, I hope I'm in Slytherin."

"You will be, I know you will. You're evil, after all."

"You know what?" he glared teasingly.

"No, but feel free to tell me," she grinned.

"Mudwallower."

"Git."

"Disgusting."

"Immature."

"Idiot."

"Pudgy."

His grey eyes widened. "You did _not_ just-"

"I did," she replied smugly.

"I am _not_-"

"I know!"

"I'm going to bed."

"I'm not going to stop you."

Draco stood and opened the door, but just before leaving he turned back to her and chuckled. "Goodnight, Polly."

She smiled. "Goodnight, Draco."

**AN: And scene. I apologize if Draco (especially since this is 1****st**** year Draco) seems a little OOC, but I like to think he's different when he's around his friends versus being at home with his cousin. The Draco/Polly interaction was my favorite part of this chapter. Draco = love. 3**

**Now then, there's this lovely little button down at the bottom there. Please click and review and make me a happy person. ^.^**


	4. The Keeper of the Peace

**AN: I didn't like this chapter. I didn't like this chapter. I didn't like this chapter. I did not. Like. This. Chapter. I'm just saying. This one, ugh. It was so hard to write and I feel like I rushed it and… it's gonna get better. I promise. Pinky promise with whipped cream and (your choice of sexy celebrity) on top. Bear with me, please.**

**Disclaimer: Guess what? What? I don't own **_**Harry Potter**_**! NO WAY! WAY. (I do own Polly, though, and she's doing a great job dealing with my boring chapters.)**

Chapter Four – The Keeper of the Peace

The next morning, Dobby appeared with a few slices of bread and a glass of water. He set the tray on her desk and handed her a note from her uncle stating she was to say in her room until further notice. When Dobby left, Polly nearly threw the measly breakfast out the window. Instead she kicked the locked door, resulting in a small dent at its base and a _very_ sore toe.

Dobby returned at lunch to bring more bread and water, then at dinner with bread, water, and potato stew.

This continued for about a week. The only things keeping her sane were rereading letters from Dumbledore and continuing to sew the green fabric into a suitable dress. Tippy examined it while Polly ate her dinner solemnly. "Miss is rushing through her stitches," Tippy noted. "Miss should be patient."

"I know," she replied.

At that moment, Dobby popped in with his small hands pressed to his chest. Polly could barely make out the envelope he was trying to conceal.

Her eyes widened. "Dobby!" Her spoon fell into the stew with a _plop_. "Is that?"

Dobby looked around frightened then nodded. "Please, Miss. If Master knew..." he shuddered. "Another owl, Miss Polly. Big as Dobby! Master did not see. Master was still arguing with Mistress about schools. But Dobby saw. Dobby got the letter before Master could." He held up the letter with a trembling hand.

Polly bent over and hugged the elf. "Oh, Dobby. Thank you!"

Tippy shook her head. "Tippy is leaving. Tippy knows nothing!" She dropped the dress and popped out.

Polly didn't hesitate to tear it open. It was the same letter she'd received before, but now it was in her hands. "Dobby, did the owl leave yet?"

"Dobby will check, Miss." He popped out and Polly pulled a sheet of parchment and quill out of her desk's drawer. There was a small bit of ink left in her only bottle, but, honestly, Polly would've used her own blood to write with if it meant getting out of Malfoy Manor.

She scrawled to the best of her ability: _Uncle Lucius says "no" and is determined to keep me here. Please help. - Polly_

Dobby popped back in between the words _please_ and _help_. "Yes, Dobby?" She finished scribbling her name.

He looked down. "Master has found the owl, Miss. Master sent it away with a very nasty letter. Very nasty, indeed."

Polly groaned. "Why? What reason could he possibly have for keeping me here other than to make me miserable? He _hates_ me, Dobby. He _knows_ he wants me out of here!" She fell onto her bed and closed her eyes. "This is ridiculous."

Dobby played with his fingers and cleared his throat. "Dobby could..."

"Yes?" she sat up and watched him with hopeful eyes.

"Well..." He snapped and started smacking his head on her bed post. "_Bad_ Dobby! _Bad bad bad_ Dobby! Mustn't! Defy! Master!"

"Dob_by_!" Polly hissed and held his body away from the post. "Do you want him to hear you? Now, stop it!"

He looked up at her, a large bruise just starting to form on his forehead. "Dobby is sorry. Dobby was suggesting to take the letter to the Headmaster himself."

Polly's eyes widened and she knelt down to match her eyes with his. "Dobby, would you? Could you? It would mean so much to me. I mean, you don't have to. I don't want you to get into trouble, by all means. But if you did... Dobby, I don't know how I could ever repay you!"

His large eyes softened. "Such a good friend to Dobby." He took the letter out of Polly's hand and departed.

For what seemed like hours, Polly read and reread letters and the one book she still had in her possession, _Dracula_, which, contrary to popular belief, was _not_ written by a Muggle and was therefore acceptable for her to read by her uncle. By midnight, Dobby still hadn't returned and Polly decided all she could do was attempt to sleep and wait until morning.

~ * ~

The next morning, July 31st, Polly awoke to a staring house elf with a worried expression. "Dobby did it, Miss."

Polly immediately sat up. "Dobby! What happened to you last night?"

"Master caught Dobby popping back in. He thought Dobby was visiting friends again and made Dobby stay in the dungeons again."

"Oh, Dobby," she smiled gratefully. "Thank you. You don't know how much this means to me. What did Dumbledore say?"

"Dobby isn't sure."

She frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Dobby listened as best as Dobby could Headmaster Dumbledore talked very fast, Miss. Dobby only heard a few words."

"And?"

"Headmaster said 'send many letters again' and something else Dobby does not wish to repeat because Dobby will be speaking ill of his family."

"It's alright," she smirked a little. "What does he mean by sending many letters again?"

Dobby shook his head. "I don't kno-" but he flinched and popped out just before her bedroom door flung open.

"POLLY SMILES!"

Polly jumped so much at her uncle's outburst that she fell back and hit her head on the window sill. "YES?" she screamed from both fright and pain.

"GET DOWNSTAIRS AND CLEAN YOUR MESS!"

She looked at him, confused, and rubbed the back of her head. "What mess, sir?"

Lucius grasped her hair and hauled her down the tower-stairs, hallway, and grand staircase until she found herself in the drawing room and gasped.

The floor was littered in Hogwarts-issued envelopes all addressed to _her_.

Lucius pushed her into a pile. "CLEAN IT!" The annoyance in his voice was almost _too_ clear.

'_I DIDN'T DO IT!_' she wanted to scream against her better judgment, but refrained. Instead she shouted against her better judgment, "Maybe you should just let me reply and go and then you wouldn't have to deal with me!" It was the most defiant (and stupid) thing Polly had ever said to her uncle.

And he was steamed. His pale face turned so red it made his long, platinum hair look pink.****

Just as Lucius rose his walking stick to beat the living daylights out of his niece, Narcissa and Draco ran into the room - Draco still chewing his breakfast - to see what all the yelling was about. Narcissa gasped at all the letters and Lucius immediately called off his attack.

"When did all these get here?" she asked breathlessly.

"I would assume this morning," Lucius replied.

Draco picked a few up and frowned. "Are there any for me?"

"HUSH, DRACO!" Lucius shouted. Draco dropped the letters and returned to his mother's side.

Then Lucius grabbed Polly by the hair for the second time that morning and hissed in her ear, "You defiant girl. How _dare_ you talk to me like that, you filthy little Mudwa-"

But Lucius didn't finish his sentence because a burning pain shot through his hand. It took a moment to realize Polly had set her own hair on fire. She squealed and quickly patted it out, unfortunately not in time to prevent a less-than-flattering haircut.

She carefully watched her uncle stare at his scorched hand. Polly waited for him to yell. He had to yell. The silence was unbearable and far more terrifying than any punishment.

Lucius looked up from his hand, absolutely seething with anger, but he didn't yell. He unsheathed his wand.

Now Narcissa intervened. She stepped in front of Polly and cried, "Lucius, _think_! I implore you to see reason. Put away your wand, you're not allowed to harm her like that anyway. Please, my love. What's one year early? It doesn't matter if she…"

"It _does_ matter, Narcissa. I will not let Dumbledore think he has gotten the better of me." He said this calmly. Eerily calm. "It is, I suppose, a matter of principle."

"Principle?" Narcissa tried again. "Haven't we had enough of this, my dear? Why worry about principle? About one measly… battle, shall we say, against Dumbledore? It's one of many to come. You will have your chance to show him you will not be trampled upon, but why over her? She's not important, love. You're making her out to be important and she's not. Let her go. Why should we care? We're not paying for her supplies or tuition. We've spent nine years sheltering the stupid girl. Nine years of punishing her and still she rebels. We didn't want her in the first place and, if it weren't for that confounded will, we wouldn't have her. Now we have a chance of getting rid of her for year. A year _early_. And it will be perfectly legal. Why not take the opportunity?"

Polly couldn't tell if her aunt was actually defending her or really wanting to get rid of her, but whatever the case, Narcissa could always be counted on to keep the peace in her home.

Lucius lowered his wand and gazed at his wife. She didn't wait for his verbal approval, she simply picked up one of the many letters off the floor and handed it to Polly. "Draco," she turned to her son, "take Polly to the owlery. See that she sends her reply and _only_ her reply. I must have a few extra words with your father."

Draco gave a tense nod and motioned for Polly to follow him. They stayed silent until reaching the manor's personal owlery where Draco cried in utter astonishment. "I can't believe it!"

Polly retrieved some of the spare parchment that was always left up there, still shocked herself.

"I mean," Draco continued, "Mum's _never_ been so stern with Father. She was actually defending you!"

"I think she was more defending your father than me," Polly said while scribbling her reply to Dumbledore or McGonagall or whoever takes care of such things as Hogwarts.

Draco frowned. "Defending him from what?"

Polly looked up. "Your mother said something about a will. I think that will was my mother's and it entrusted me to your father. It makes sense, doesn't it?"

"I suppose," he folded his arms. "But why defend Father from it?"

"Well, from what I've read in the library, Malfoy wills have special binding contracts. If Uncle Lucius signed it then he _must_ take care of me or else he'll die."

"What? Bu-"

"Draco," she assured her cousin, "he's taking care of me. Sort of. Well he's providing shelter and food… sort of. Anyway, he's fine. And your mum is making sure of it."

"Yeah," he smirked. "Done yet?"

"Nearly." She folded the parchment and handed it to the large, grey owl that didn't look happy. It tried to bite her and she huffed. "Would you?" she asked her cousin.

"What? Could it be? A creature on earth actually does _not _like Polly Smiles?" he questioned sarcastically.

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, believe it or not. Now please?"

He sighed and attached the reply to the owl's leg.

Polly and Draco came back down to the drawing room quietly, hoping to catch part of the conversation they had been sent out of. Faintly, they heard Lucius suggest sending Draco to Durmstrang instead where the school wasn't run by "an idiot like Albus Dumbledore" but Narcissa insisted Draco stay close to home.

"It just _irks_ me, Cissa," Lucius scoffed. "She's just like her mother. She's rebellious and stupid and painstakingly polite! To pair a monster like that up with a fool like Dumbledore? I'll never hear the end of it." At that moment he stood, hearing footsteps approach.

Realizing they had been discovered, Polly and Draco entered. Narcissa immediately walked to her son's side and put her hands on his shoulders. Polly simply waited by the doorway. "And?" Lucius asked her.

"And what, sir?"

"Merlin, girl! Did you send it?"

"Yes, sir."

He narrowed his eyes. "You had better thank my wife for this. If it were up to me you'd still be locked in your room."

Polly turned to her aunt. "Thank you, Aunt Narcissa."

Narcissa nodded curtly. "Simply understand you are paying for everything yourself and you are not to distract Draco from his successes in any way."

"Of course, ma'am."

"We're shopping in the morning. I expect you to be ready or you'll be finding your own way to London." At that, Narcissa walked out of the room, dragging Draco with her and Polly was once again alone with her uncle.

She stared up at him and took a deep breath. She knew this was going to be stupid, but she had to know the truth. Polly always had to know the truth. And, honestly, wanting to know the truth didn't even cross her mind until now. Talking about the will, her parents' deaths, being just like her mother. With all the excitement the past few weeks, she'd almost forgotten. "Sir," she took another breath in an attempt to calm herself but no dice. "Sir, why didn't you tell me my parents were murdered by Vol- I mean, the Dark Lord?"

Lucius's eyes widened. "Who told you that?"

"Professor Dumbledore."

For a moment, Lucius look as if he was going to strike her again but instead his lips curled into a sinister smile. "Did it matter?"

"Yes!" she yelled softly. "They're my parents! I believe I had a right to know!"

"Perhaps I was lying for your own good. You'd be better off believing your parents abandoned you than to go off searching for revenge against them. Although, now that I think about it, looking for revenge wouldn't be so bad. You'd be sure to lose and I'd be rid of you. It's too bad the Dark Lord is dead, though. Someone beat you to it. Either way, consider it a warning. Those who defy with the Dark Lord always get what they deserve," he smirked. "Now, I'm off to the Ministry. You'd best hope I don't lose a single Knut of today's pay for making me late. And I want all these" he motioned to the piles of letters "gone by the time I return home." He looked at her one more time. "And for Merlin's sake, get one of the elves to fix your hair. You look repulsive."

With that he disapparated leaving Polly and her disheveled hair in a mixture of anger, confusion, and exhaustion.

**AN: And ta-da! The torture is over! The next chapter's going to be fun to write. Diagon Alley! Please review and make me feel slightly better about this chapter? :)**


	5. Diagon Alley

**AN: First of all, thank you to all my reviewers. Makes me feel happy. I love when people review. I reeeeeeally love when people review. (*nudge*) Anyways, I really enjoyed writing this chapter. Really. :)**

**Disclaimer: I'm not J.K. Rowling. **_**DUH**_. **Even the chapter title is not mine. And the dialogue between Draco and Harry isn't, either, I just tried adding some extra thoughts to change things up a little.**

The next morning, Polly woke up bright and early to the sound of her cousin banging on her bedroom door. "Merlin, you're a heavy sleeper. Get out of bed before we leave you here!"

Polly jumped out of bed, adrenaline pumping through her veins. She was going school supply shopping. For _Hogwarts_. Once again, the black and grey plaid skirt, polo, and blazer had been laid out for her, cleaned and pressed since the time she wore it to the zoo. It was very rare for Polly to receive clothes from her family. Every year they would have something new made for public outings so that she at least looked presentable, but these were never anything fancy and around the house Polly usually wore her clothes from the years before. She slipped into them and the shoes Tippy had polished for her, then ran into the hall to check her reflection.

Her new (and unwanted) haircut barely reached past her jaw line, but this didn't bother her too much. Polly's hair had the tendency to grow fast, one to the perks of being part-Malfoy. It also had the tendency to naturally go from color to color more often than most, a perk to being her mother's daughter. When Polly was an infant she was blonde, but as time went on her hair darkened to a golden-brown. Now it was auburn. Her mother had been known for this same trait, something she learned from her disapproving aunt.

"Will you _hurry_?" Draco tugged at her arm and rushed her down the stairs. "I wanna get there early enough to see all the racing brooms!"

"Why? You're not allowed to bring a broom to school with you anyway."

"I'll bet _I_ can. Father will buy it for me and I can smuggle it in."

She rolled her eyes, although he couldn't see.

Lucius and Narcissa were waiting by the fireplace with the ornate box of Floo powder. It had been decided that Polly would travel to Diagon Alley via Floo network while the others would apparate or, in the case of Draco, side-along apparate. Very rarely did Malfoys stoop to a means of travel as filthy as the Floo.

Draco immediately let go of Polly's arm and wiped the grin off his face at the sight of his father. Lucius reached into his cloak and pulled out Polly's Gringotts key. Polly held out her palm silently and anxiously, waiting to feel the cool brass on her skin. Her uncle looked as though he was going to say something but thought better of it and dropped the key into her hand. Then he disapparated, followed closely by Narcissa with Draco clinging to her arm.

Polly took her handful of Floo powder and tossed it in gingerly. She had always traveled by portkey, never using the Floo network and suddenly felt horribly nervous. She knew how to, of course. She'd seen guests use it every now and then, but it still frightened her. Polly did one last check to make sure she still had her supply list, then stepped into the green flames bravely and shouted as clear as she could "Diagon Alley." Suddenly it felt as if being sucked down a giant drain. She shut her eyes and kept every limb as close as she could to her body. The world spun around her very fast and she caught glimpses of other rooms with fireplaces as they passed on by. Just as she was sure that (if she had had a breakfast) she would have lost it, everything stopped abruptly and she fell forward onto the navy blue carpet of Flourish and Blotts.

The surrounding wizards, of course, thought nothing of it. A kind-looking, plump woman with red hair helped her stand up. "Thank you," Polly smiled, dusting off soot.

"It's no problem, dear," the woman assured her, "but I would move out of the way before-"

Polly was abruptly knocked back to the ground by something that landed on top of her, and just as she was about to push herself up again, something else landed on top of that. She fought her way out of the dog pile to see two red-haired identical twins laughing. "Sorry 'bout that," they chuckled simultaneously. They helped her stand up and the woman rushed to dust Polly off.

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry about those two," she pushed Polly out of harm's way and continued brushing off her skirt.

"No, it's okay," insisted Polly. "Really."

The woman nodded. "If you say so, dear."

Another child popped out of the Floo. She was completely covered in soot but Polly could barely make out the girl's red hair peeking out under all the darkness. The twins burst into a fit of laughter and their mother pulled the girl out of the fireplace's way. "Oh, Ginny. Now you've gone and done it." The woman wiped the soot off Ginny's face just as another redhead came through, landing more professionally than the others.

"Ron's taking forever," he instructed his mother, cleaning his glasses with the sleeve of his robes. "Dad says to go on and start."

The woman nodded and the twins took this as their cue to run out. "Fred and George Weasley!" the woman shouted after them but they continued running.

_Weasley_. Polly wondered why she hadn't seen it before. The red hair and the tattered clothing. She'd heard of this family far too many times from her uncle who was nothing less than disgusted by them, but Polly could see nothing to be disgusted by. Yes, they appeared a little unorganized and poor, but they still seemed happier a family than the Malfoys had ever been.

"Those two, I _swear_," she scoffed then looked up at Polly. "I'm sorry, dear. Did you need anything?"

Polly, not realizing how captivated by the family she had been, stuttered a "N-no, sorry." and smiled, softly. She left then, passing through the store and briefly acknowledging Mr. Blotts, now the only manager after the untimely death of Mrs. Flourish.

The aged wizard recognized her immediately. "We have a new shipment!" he said excitedly.

"I'll come back!" replied Polly. She headed to Gringotts with her key in hand. When she entered, the goblins eyed her suspiciously. Well, it wasn't everyday a ten-year-old needed to make a withdrawal _by herself_.

She walked hesitantly up to the head goblin and showed him her key. "Name?" he grumbled and snatched the key out from her fingers.

"Polly Smiles."

He looked at her then, suspiciously. "This key opens the vault in the Malfoy level of Gringotts."

"My mother is a Malfoy. Lucinda Malfoy?"

"This isn't your mother's vault anymore."

Polly frowned. "I know. It's mine." Goblins were known for being hard to work with, but this was ridiculous.

"Do you have proof of this?"

"Aren't _you_ supposed to have proof in your records?" she asked, getting rather annoyed.

The goblin glared at her but pulled out a large book and flipped right to the page. "Ah, yes. Miss Polly Smiles. Vault six hundred and sixty-five, previously owned by Miss Lucinda Malfoy, excuse me, _Mrs._ Lucinda Smiles... Transferred to Polly Smiles... Last deposit: November 2, 1981... Transferred all from vault seven hundred and twenty, owner: Mr. Samuel Smiles, into vault six hundred and sixty-five per request of the last wills and testaments of Mr. and Mrs. Samuel Smiles."

Polly simply watched him ramble on about the things she already knew and said nothing.

The head goblin shut the book and called for Malik to take her to the vault. Polly received her key back and got into the cart, finding it rather fun to zoom past vaults and head deeper and deeper into the tunnel. Eventually Malik inserted her key and led her inside where Polly was blinded by mounds and mounds of gold, silver, and bronze. She really shouldn't have been surprised, she was part-Malfoy after all and her father had been extremely well-off as well, but the idea that this fortune was _hers_ made her stomach flutter. Polly fit as much as she could in the purse she'd brought along, careful not to make it obvious she was hauling around at least a hundred coins. She wanted to be sure she had enough for a couple terms since it would be unlikely for her to return any time soon.

One wild cart right later, Polly stood blinking in the sunlight outside Gringotts. She checked her supply list, which she knew looked slightly different than Draco's as it had been personally written by Dumbledore.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL

_of_ WITCHCRAFT _and_ WIZARDRY

UNIFORM

Unnecessary, to say the least. I would suggest some work robes, a winter cloak, and some presentable, casual clothing. Do not worry about keeping things uniform as you are not a student just yet.

You will require, however:

1. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)

COURSE BOOKS  
>You should have a copy of each of the following:<br>- _The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)_ by Miranda Goshawk  
>- <em>A History of Magic<em> by Bathilda Bagshot  
>- <em>Magical Theory<em> by Adalbert Waffling  
>- <em>Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them<em> by Newt Scamander  
>- <em>The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection<em> by Quentin Trimble

OTHER EQUIPMENT  
>1 wand<br>- Typically wands are not sold to witches and wizards under eleven. If you should run into a snag, simply show this paper to Mr. Ollivander who, as I am sure, will be reasonable.  
>1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)<br>- I have worked it out with Professor Snape to allow you the use of his spare classroom cauldrons. Of course, if you wish to buy one for yourself, you are more than welcome.  
>1 set of glass or crystal phials<br>1 telescope  
>1 set of brass scales<p>

You may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad, but might I suggest a cat? My office has been a bit run-down with mice lately and our caretaker refuses to allow the use of his. It is, of course, entirely up to you, though.

Respectfully yours,  
><em>Albus Dumbledore<em>

Polly didn't know where to start, honestly. She walked along the cobbled streets of Diagon Alley, passing the window that displayed the racing brooms. She was sure she would have found her cousin there but didn't. The Weasley twins - _Fred and George, was it?_ - were though, gaping at the latest model. When she walked by they noticed and ran to her.

"Hey! We're sorry again about knocking you over an' all," one of them said. "I'm Fred, by the way."

"No you're not," the other twin said. "_I'm_ Fred. He's George and he likes confusing people."

Polly laughed. "How do I know _you're_ not George?" she said to the twin who claimed to be Fred.

"Well either way," he said, "you know that George is the one who likes to confuse people."

She laughed again at the twins' jokes, having never met a pair so lighthearted before. "I'm Polly Smiles."

"Polly who?" Fred asked.

"Polly _Smiles_," George jabbed his brother.

"I know she smiles, look at her. She hasn't stopped smiling since she saw how ridiculous you face looks."

"Fred, you have the same face."

They both laughed and Polly watched contently, waiting for them to calm down. "Smiles is my last name," she explained.

"He knows," George gave his brother a look. "He's just being stupid." He elbowed his brother. "Say you're sorry."

"Alright!" Fred pouted. "I'm sorry!"

"It's alright," Polly assured Fred.

"See?" Fred stuck his tongue out at George. "She's a great sport." The three of them stood smiling at each other when Fred's eyes suddenly widened. "Merlin's saggy left arse-cheek! We've lost Ginny!"

George started searching the crowd frantically. "Mum will kill us. Come on, George!"

"_You're_ George!" Fred shouted at him. "Sorry, Polly. We've got to run. Catch you later!" Then they disappeared into the crowd leaving Polly in a surprisingly happy mood.

"There you are," a woman scoffed from behind. Polly turned to see her aunt standing by the entrance to Ollivanders. "Get yourself cleaned up, Polly. There's filth all over your face. And ask Draco - he's in Madam Malkin's - if he might hurry up with his fitting and join me here. I've picked out a few wands."

Polly nodded, "Yes, ma'am." and headed to Madam Malkin's.

Draco stood on his footstool proudly while a witch pinned up his school robes to the proper length. Her cousin fidgeted. "I don't like the fabric," he complained. "Isn't there anything silkier?"

"Not unless you'd like to go against Hogwarts regulations," Madam Malkin said, coming out of a room with some more pins.

"You're pinning it too high!" he pouted.

Polly leaned on the doorway and folded her arms with a smirk. A bell rang to announce her presence and both Draco and Madam Malkin looked up to see her.

"Welcome! Hogwarts bound as well?" the mauve-wearing witch ushered her to a footstool.

Polly handed Madam Malkin her supply list, "Sort of."

The storekeeper looked slightly confused at the list but then delighted. "Oh, this will be exciting. Follow me to the back, dear." She disappeared into the storage room and Polly followed, smiling at Draco as she passed.

"Your mum says to hurry. Your wand can't choose you if you're not there," she told him briefly, then entered the room filled with various fabrics and supplies.

"Now let me take a good look at you," Madam Malkin said. "Uh-huh. Yes. Oh! Violet eyes. Might I suggest violet robes?"

Polly nodded and Madam Malkin started trying out different fabrics against Polly's skin complexion, hair, and eyes. The bell rang again and she set the scarlet fabric down. "I'll return in a moment."

"Hogwarts, dear?" Polly heard her say to the new customer. "Got the lot here – another young man being fitted up just now, in fact."

Polly peeked out of the storage room to see who the new customer was and was surprised to find none other than Harry Potter being having a long robe slipped over his head.

"Hello," said Draco. "Hogwarts, too?"

"Yes," said Harry. Polly couldn't wait to tell her cousin he had been conversing with The Boy Who Lived.

"My father's next door buying my books and my mother's up the street looking at wands," Draco drawled with a hint of boredom in his voice which amused Polly. She'd never seen her cousin act so pompous before, no doubt something he'd caught on from his father. "Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully Father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow."

_Good luck_, Polly thought, imagining her uncle's probable response to that particular request. In her thought, she didn't catch Draco's next question, but instead heard Harry reply "No."

"Play Quidditch at all?"

"No," Harry said again looking confused. Polly felt sorry for him, having to grow up with Muggles and knowing nothing about things like Quidditch.

"_I_ do." Draco folded his arms, much to the disappointment of the witch still trying to pin his robes. "Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree. Know what house you'll be in yet?"

"No."

Again, Polly felt sorry for Harry. She kind of wanted to tell her cousin Harry didn't know about the houses, but she also wanted to watch and see how things played out between them. She hoped her cousin would get along with Harry, especially if she and Harry were to be friends.

"Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been – imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?"

Harry mumbled inaudibly, looking extremely uncomfortable.

"I say, look at that man!" Draco nodded toward the front window. Polly moved silently to get a better look and saw an _extremely_ large man with scraggily hair holding two ice cream cones and smiling at Harry.

"That's Hagrid," Harry grinned. "He works at Hogwarts."

"_That's_ Hagrid?" said Polly quietly to herself. Dumbledore had told her about the Keeper of Keys at Hogwarts but had never actually described him. She certainly didn't expect anyone so… giant.

Draco didn't look phased. "Oh. I've heard of him. He's a sort of servant, isn't he?"

"He's the gamekeeper," Harry said with a hint of annoyance.

"Yes, exactly. I heard he's a sort of _savage_ – lives in a hut on the school grounds and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic, and ends up setting fire to his bed."

_Draco_, Polly mentally scolded him for spreading a rumor like that. She knew where he had heard it from, too. Pansy Parkinson, a nasty girl Polly had only met twice at some of the Malfoy cotillions. She lived off of hearing and spreading gossip and who knew where she'd gotten a story like that.

Harry spoke up proudly, "I think he's brilliant."

At this, Draco looked at Harry suspiciously. "_Do_ you?" he sneered. "Why is he with you? Where are your parents?"

Polly cringed, feeling sorrier for Harry by the minute. "Where are your parents?" was, no doubt, a sensitive question. She couldn't understand why Draco was suddenly being so rude and she'd never seen him act so superior before.

"They're dead," said Harry shortly.

"Oh, sorry," said Draco, though he didn't sound sorry at all. Polly frowned, but felt her mouth fall open at her cousin's next words: "But they were _our_ kind, weren't they?"

"They were a witch and wizard, if that's what you mean."

Since when did it matter if someone was a magical or not to Draco? Polly wondered. Or was he making sure Harry wasn't Muggle-born? Either way, he was sounding more and more like his father and Polly decided she didn't like it.

"I really don't think they should let the other sort in, do you? They're just not the same, they've never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families. What's your surname, anyway?"

But before Harry could answer or Polly could intervene, Madam Malkin said, "That's you done, my dear." and Harry hurried out of there.

"Well, I'll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose," Draco drawled after him, but Harry had left.

"Now then," Madame Malkin motioned for Polly to stand on the footstool. "Let's get you your measurements."

While the madam recorded Polly's tiny figure, Polly turned to Draco with a straight face. "Do you even know who that was?"

Draco smirked. "I should say not. I did ask for his surname, after all. Seemed a bit quiet, didn't he? Almost as if he knows nothing about Hogwarts."

"He doesn't, or I assume he doesn't," said Polly. "He grew up with Muggles."

"So he _lied_ to me! He said his parents were magical."

"_No_," Polly huffed. "He didn't lie. His parents are dead. He grew up with his Muggle aunt and uncle."

"So then his family isn't Pureblooded, then?"

"Draco, does everything have to be about blood-statuses? You're turning into your father."

"I am not," he said defensively. "But I do know that anybody who amounts to something is Pureblooded."

"What?" She glared at him. "What of Harry Potter?"

"Well he…" Draco's face turned paler than natural. Even Madam Malkin and the other witch looked up at Polly. "_That_ was Harry Potter?"

Madam Malkin stood and clasped her hands together. "I _thought_ he looked familiar! Just like his father, that one." She ran to her storage room again and the witch tending to Draco took off his finished robe.

"How do you know?" Draco asked Polly.

"Dumbledore."

Madam Malkin came back with navy blue, white, and violet fabrics and held them against Polly. "Oh, yes. I'll have these made and ready for you by tomorrow. Will you be able to pick them up or shall I have them delivered?"

"Better deliver them, please," Polly told her. "Malfoy Manor."

"Very well," she nodded. "Mr. Malfoy, you may leave as well."

The two cousins walked to Ollivanders where Lucius had met up with Narcissa. Draco peered at the wands his mother had picked out for him but none seemed to work. Finally, a hawthorn wand with a unicorn hair accepted him and the Malfoys left, completely forgetting Polly.

Mr. Ollivander leaned on his counter and peered down at Polly with wide, pale, silvery eyes. "Miss Smiles, I presume?"

Finding no voice because she was so captivated by the moment, Polly made herself nod.

He chuckled softly. "Going to Hogwarts a year early, are you?"

"How did you know?" Polly questioned.

Mr. Ollivander merely smiled and asked for her wand arm. She held out her right and watched him measure carefully. "Tall for your age, aren't you?"

"Relatively," she replied.

"Just like your mother," he assured her. "Not your eyes, though. Odd, I don't remember your mother or father ever having violet. Remarkable trait, nevertheless. Quite lovely. Now then," he started scanning the shelves and the tape measure returned to his vest pocket, "how well do you know your wandlore, Miss Smiles?"

"Fairly well, sir." Polly watched him take a box off the shelf then shake his head and put it back.

"You know that no two wands are alike, then?"

"Of course, sir."

He looked at yet another box, but changed his mind and climbed a ladder to a higher shelf. "Sometimes certain wands will react with another in strange ways."

"Sir?"

"I would suspect…" he paused and reached over to select a maroon-colored box, blowing layers of collected dust off of it. "I would suspect you will experience such a reaction with yours."

Mr. Ollivander carefully climbed down the ladder and opened the box. "Rosewood and vine, a mixture of woods which is most rare, as I'm sure you know. Wandmakers do not usually mix woods, but sometimes we like to do a bit of experimenting." He laughed quietly to himself. "Phoenix feather. Unyielding. Fourteen and a half inches."

"Isn't that rather long?" she asked.

"Well it won't be in a few years time, will it?" Mr. Ollivander picked it out of the box and studied it carefully. "Yes, most rare. It's not often I get it right my first try, Miss Smiles, but I am positive…" He handed it to her handle first.

Polly took the delicate object and it was as though it simply welded to her touch. Her hands tingled with a strange kind of warmth and blue sparks shot from the end and swirled around the room.

"I was right," Mr. Ollivander sighed contently.

While he wrapped the wand back up in its box Polly couldn't help asking, "Excuse me, sir, but what were you talking about? The reactions, I mean."

She handed him her Galleons and he gave her her wand. "Just the hunch of an old, experienced wizard, Miss Smiles. You have a most mysterious aura about you. Curious. Something suggests you will be destined for... Well, I don't know, but time will tell."

By the time Polly was finished with her shopping, the Malfoys had already apparated home and her new kitten, Macatee, was trying to claw his way out of his temporary cage. Polly pulled herself away from all the new books Mr. Blotts had been showing her and took the Floo back to the manor.

She held her possessions tightly against her chest as she passed from fireplace to fireplace, landing in the drawing room about as smoothly as she had landed in Diagon Alley. Luckily, none of her glass phials had shattered. Macatee looked positively dreadful, though.

After making her clean up the soot and cat spew around the hearth, Lucius sent her and her possessions up to her room. Dobby and Tippy admired and fed Macatee while Polly turned her wand over and over in her hands. Draco visited for a few minutes, but Polly didn't catch much of what he said.

She couldn't get over what Mr. Ollivander had told her. And Dumbledore, for that matter. What was she destined for?

**AN: I apologize for the length. I just loved writing the chapter. (And I love writing about Fred and George. A LOT.) Review, please? ^.^**


	6. The Journey from Platform 9 and 3l4

**AN: Thought I forgot about this, didn't you? Nope, I'm back. I've been so busy with exams, online physics, chorus and drama lately. Still am **_**but**_** I found some time to write a bit JUST FOR YOU. ;)**

**Disclaimer: (I almost forgot to write this… Ms. Rowling, you wouldn't hurt me would you?) Well, anyway, I don't own Harry Potter. Not even the title of this chapter is mine, and if you couldn't figured that out then… okay. Weirdo. Just kidding. Anyway, Polly's mine, though. Just saying.**

Chapter Six – The Journey from Platform Nine and Three-Quarters

Polly's last month with the Malfoys turned out to be quite amusing. Lucius developed a sort of fear of her since the fiery incident, but he still made sure she had kitchen duty every night. Kitchen duty wasn't as bad anymore now that Polly had a wand. Of course, she only tried a few simple spells like _scourge _and _aquamenti_, and even they took more concentration than she realized. The first time she tried _aquamenti_ she nearly drowned the house elves. Eventually, she figured it out but decided it would be best to wait for Dumbledore to try any others.

Narcissa ordered more clothes for her niece, which Polly suspected was just to show Dumbledore they really were taking care of her. Every now and then Draco would stop by her room and show her a new spell he'd learned, but it never really worked the way he wanted it to.

"Whatever," he frowned after trying to repair a broken plate he'd brought up. "I'll probably be the best in potions."

Seemingly disinterested, Polly turned a page in _A History of Magic_. "Have you read your potions' books?"

"No, of course not."

"Oh, yes, Draco. You'll definitely be the best then."

Draco sighed and sat on her desk. "That's not what I mean. Professor Snape's teaching, you know."

"And?" she looked up from her book.

"And he likes us. Malfoys, I mean. Father and him were on good terms in school."

"Oh, so you'll be the best simply because your father knows the teacher?"

"Exactly."

Polly scoffed, "When will you learn you can't depend on your father for all your so-called successes?"

"You're just jealous."

"_Jealous?_" she spat. "Are you _nutters_? Draco, what's happened to you? Ever since I've been accepted to Hogwarts early, ever since you met Harry Potter, you've turned into an absolute..." completely flustered and not in the mood to think of anything clever, Polly shouted "TROLL!"

Draco glared at her for a beat then stifled a laugh. "You couldn't come up with anything better?"

"No, not really." Polly didn't crack a smile. She hated it when people - particularly Draco - laughed at her anger. "And I'm not jealous. Just annoyed."

"Why?"

She closed her book and set it down on her lap. "You've changed, Draco. Or at least from what I've seen. Spreading Pansy's gossip? Judging others for having Muggle parents? Does that mean you're going to start judging me?"

Draco picked a cat hair off his impeccable, black pants. "Of course not. You're Pureblooded."

"But according to your father, I'm a Blood-traitor."

He frowned. "No, you're not. Your parents were."

"Exactly. You don't judge me for my parents actions, but you'll judge someone else for having Muggle parents. My parents _chose_ to be traitors. No one can choose to be a Muggle. You see how unjust this whole system of thinking is?"

"I don't see what's so unjust about it," Draco mumbled. "We're Pureblooded and that's all that matters. If you were a Mudblood, I would treat you much differently. If you became a Mudwallower, I would treat you differently. If-"

"If I hear the words 'pure,' 'mud,' or 'blood' again, I'm hexing you into the next dimension and don't think I can't 'cause I can and I will!" Polly faced her cousin sternly, daring him to call her bluff. She knew some curses but also knew she probably shouldn't try any without supervision.

Draco furrowed his eyebrows and stormed out of the room childishly. Polly felt hot, prickly tears forming in her eyes but blinked them away. It's not easy to hear the only friend you've had for nine years say he would treat you like scum in an instant if you made the wrong friends. Okay, so maybe not those exact words, but it was exactly what he meant.

When the first of September finally arrived, you could not get Polly out of the house faster. Her trunk had been packed the night before and she was already in her new robes. Black ones, she decided, for her first day, at least. She even helped the house elves make breakfast for the Malfoys, hoping it would make the whole morning go faster. It didn't.

The train would leave at exactly eleven o'clock, she knew that. and it wasn't until ten forty-five when the Malfoys decided to apparate on out. Again, Polly was left to use the Floo, something her cat was _not_ excited about, but there was simply no other way.

The problem with using the Floo was that it couldn't take her directly to King's Cross as there were so many Muggles. She would have to walk - or _run_, rather - if she was to get there in time. And then there was the matter of meeting Professor Snape which, now that Polly thought about it, probably meant she wouldn't be taking the train at all. Snape would be escorting her? How awkward.

Polly landed in the Leaky Cauldron, a large trunk in one hand, a messenger bag with extra essentials hanging off her shoulder, and Macatee huddled in the corner of his cat kennel feeling just as sick as ever. She bounded out the pub and hurried down the street, ignoring the suspicious glances and straying far away from any dodgy, city corners. London was safe enough in the daytime as long as there were crowds of people, although, being ten, Polly still didn't like being out on her own.

King's Cross wasn't so far and she arrived at five 'til, but it suddenly occured to her she had no idea where Platform Nine and Three-Quarters was. "No!" she muttered to herself. "Think, Polly._Think_!"

A young girl with bushy, brown hair brushed past Polly and groaned. "Dad, stop taking pictures. I'm going to be late!"

The girl's mother pulled her father away from a flash-blinded pigeon and caught up with their daughter. "We're so proud of you, sweetie," the mother kissed her daughter's forehead. "You have all your things?"

"Of course," the girl rolled her eyes.

The father grinned from ear to ear. "That's my girl. Lookie here, Hermione!" He held up a strange looking contraption which Polly recognized from a few Muggle books - a camera, was it? It flashed a brief, bright light and the girl - Hermione? - blinked a few times.

"Alright, now I've got to _go_!" Hermione said in a bossy tone. "I'm going to be late. I'm never late!"

"You'll be fine, sweetheart." Her mother planted one last kiss on her daughter's cheek. "Oh, Harold! Our daughter is a witch!"

"Mum! Hush!"

"Gets it from your side of the family, Cathrine."

"Dad!"

"Harold!"

Her father grinned apologetically and looked around, "Where is this Platform Nine and a Quarter, anyway?"

"Three-Quarters. _Three_. And, logically speaking, it'd be somewhere in between platforms nine and ten, right?"

Polly mentally smacked her forehead. _Of course._ She left the family, hoping the girl would make it in time, and found the brick-wall barrier. Upon touching it, she felt her hand sink in slightly and realized she would have to go through it. "Here goes nothing," she whispered and walked forward with her eyes squeezed shut and adrenaline pumping, but she didn't crash. She passed through with ease and saw the scarlet, Hogwarts Express glimmering invitingly.

As soon as she moved out of the way, the girl named Hermione came through with her cart and didn't stop. Polly was about to run after her, a hand came down on her shoulder gently but not subtly. She jumped and whirled around to find a tall man with greasy, black hair and dark eyes shadowed by the eclipse of the train. "Miss Smiles, I presume?"

There was something eerily mysterious about his voice. Polly couldn't help but remember hearing it someplace before, though she couldn't remember ever meeting Severus Snape. Yes, she knew it was Snape from the simple descriptions provided by the Malfoys - "tall, dark, and greasy" - but Lucius and Narcissa had never invited him over to any of their house parties. Why, Polly didn't know, but she suspected her uncle and the professor were no longer as buddy-buddy as they may have been in Hogwarts. Not that Polly could ever imagine her uncle being buddy-buddy with anyone...

Polly nodded to the professor and he awkwardly reached for her trunk and led her to the front car of the train, which was apparently reserved for adults and/or faculty.

They seated themselves in one of the compartments, Polly on one side with her cat kennel next to her, and Snape across from her beside a timid man who was wearing a turban cowering by the window. Macatee hissed at him. "N-n-nice k-kitty," the man stuttered.

"Miss Smiles, Professor Quirrell. Defense Against the Dark Arts," Snape said with a hint of jealousy in his voice. "Quirrell, Polly Smiles. Lucius Malfoy's niece."

Polly winced. Was that all she would ever be known for? "Pleased to meet you," she said regardless.

"Ch-charmed, I'm s-sure," he nodded towards her slightly and looked as though he was debating whether to shake her hand or not. He decided on the latter, then opened a book on vampires and read quietly.

The train lurched forward and they were on their way. Needless to say, she was feeling extremely awkward."How long until we get there?" she asked Professor Snape.

He caught contact with her eyes for a moment then suddenly looked away. "Depends on the weather," he said.

She nodded, a little confused, and searched her mind for another conversation starter. "Is Potions difficult?"

"Only to those who believe they can pass by not trying at all." Snape sounded annoyed, then, in a slightly uncomfortable tone, "Your mother was talented, though."

"Y-yes. V-very talented," Quirrel injected his approval.

Snape turned to him. "Do you mind?"

Afraid of what Snape might do, Quirrell nodded and walked out of the compartment with his book.

"You knew my mother?" Polly inquired.

He stared out the window for a moment, still not making eye contact. After careful consideration, Snape replied "Miss Smiles, your mother was a Malfoy. There were very few who _didn't_ know her."

This was true, of course. Malfoys were always known for being sociable. "What about my father?"

"What about him?" Snape suddenly looked extremely uncomfortable.

Polly was hesitant to continue her small-scale interrogation but shrugged it off. She didn't know much about her parents. "Did you know him? Was he talented?"

"I knew him," Snape mumbled. "He wasn't as talented as your mother. Had a knack for potions, though."

"Really? My uncle said he wasn't good at anything and that the only thing he had going for him was his blood-status."

Was that sweat forming on Snape's forehead? "Right. Yes, well..." he swallowed. "Has the trolley come by yet?"

"Trolley?"

"With sweets."

"What kind of sweets?"

Snape was looking more and more uncomfortable by the minute. "From Honeyduke's, I would assume."

"Oh," Polly folded her hands in her lap. "No, I don't believe it's passed yet. Do they have any lemon drops?"

"Lemon dr-?"

"Dumbledore introduced them to me."

"Ah. No, I don't believe so." There was a long pause before Severus Snape stood and exited the compartment, muttering something about "Quirrell" and "up to no good."

Polly sat blinking a few times before looking at Macatee. "Well that was awkward," she said. The cat acknowledged her by lifted its head and letting out a noisy breath of air, as if sighing. Polly reached into her small bag and pulled out one of her new books to reread.

About ten or maybe twenty minutes later, Snape returned with a distraught-looking Quirrell and a colorful box of jelly beans. "Here," he handed them to her and sat. "You can pick out the lemon ones if you wish."

"Oh," Polly opened the box and gingerly plucked out a yellow one. "How will I know it's lemon?" She may have been deprived of many wizarding sweets with the Malfoys, but Polly knew the dangers of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans.

"T-taste it, p-per-haps?" Quirrell stuttered in his corner of the compartment.

Snape gave Quirrell another glare. "A _good_ potions student will carefully sniff his or her ingredient before adding it, thus to ensure its identity."

"Oh," Polly furrowed her eyebrows. "What if it's a toxic ingredient?"

"I trust you will have studied enough to know which ones are toxic and which aren't. And if toxic is the case, there are other ways. Chemical reactions to another ingredient, for one."

"Interesting." She lifted the yellow bean to her nose and sniffed. "I don't smell anything different."

"Pinch it and test the scent of the core rather than the shell."

She used her fingernails to tear open the soft, sugar and brought the bean to her nose again. Immediately she identified the sweet and sour flavor of lemon. "It's lemon," she grinned and popped it into her mouth.

"Excellent work," Snape nodded curtly and - or maybe it was just Polly's imagination - smiled a little.

For the remaining duration of the train ride, Polly identified to Professor Snape every last bean, tasting the ones thatdelicious, trying the ones that sounded odd, and tossing the ones that were just plain disgusting. When the train finally came to a halt at Hogsmeade Station, Professors Snape and Quirrell helped her carry her things off and led her away from the other first years. They boarded a self-pulling carriage and rode ahead of the other students. The carriage turned a corner and, suddenly, there it was. Hogwarts. Polly's awe-struck eyes took in the sight of the biggest and most beautiful school she would come to know, come to belong, and come to love. She was home.

**AN: Oh, awkward conversations. How I love them.**

**Questions? Concerns? Criticism? Comment and I'll love you. :)**


	7. The Sorting Ceremony

**AN: I know it's been a long time, shush. Um… had a great Christmas, some pretty challenging classes this semester, lots of drama in the fam and among friends. Ugh, life. Still, it only gave me the chance to retreat back to that which makes me happiest: Harry Potter. Hogwarts is my home, after all. 3**

**Disclaimer: Some of the dialogue in this chapter is taken from the real chapter 7 of **_**The Sorcerer's Stone. **_**I do not own Harry Potter; that brilliance belongs to Ms. Rowling. Polly's my own small moment of brilliance, however.**

Chapter Seven – The Sorting Ceremony

"Normally," Professor Snape explained to Polly as he and Professor Quirrell helped her off the self-pulling carriage and retrieved her bags, "your things would have remained on the train and brought directly to your dormitory during the feast. However, as you have not been and shall not be sorted into a house this term, there is no dormitory assigned to you."

It took a moment to comprehend what Snape had said. Firstly because it was probably the most she ever heard him say in one moment and secondly, she was once again being told she wasn't really a student yet. She was there. She was at Hogwarts and so close to being part of that family she could almost feel it, but she wasn't part of anything and wouldn't be for another year. Needless to say, it wasn't the greatest feeling.

Still, Polly asked politely "Then where will I be sleeping, sir?"

"Quarters are being set up for you adjacent to the headmaster's office."

At that moment, Quirrell's quivering hands dropped Polly's trunk on Snape's foot, who, in return, glared ominously at the stuttering professor. Quirrell did not seem to notice, however. "The headmaster's office?" he said with an tone of surprise.

"Yes…" Snape said through clenched teeth, "I believe that is what I said."

Now the timid professor felt Snape's discontent. In a brisk motion, he picked up Polly's trunk again. "P-perhaps we should be hurrying along, then?" said Quirrell starting to head towards the castle.

"Not so fast, Professor," Snape drawled. "I have been given specific instructions to escort Polly…"

Quirrell gave yet another confused look.

"_Alone_."

Polly was feeling more uncomfortable by the second.

"Oh," Quirrell set down Polly's trunk, "y-yes. Of c-course. Please don't think that I-I…"

"I'm watching you, Quirrell," said Snape in a highly suspicious tone of voice. "Accompany yourself to the Great Hall at once."

"Yes, Severus." Quirrell gave a defeated nod of the head before leaving.

Polly couldn't help finding the whole situation rather odd, but then again she didn't know the professors as well as they might know each other. Perhaps there had always been such discontent between the two. It was almost comical watching two grown men act like so, but Polly did feel a bit sorry for poor Professor Quirrell. Snape seemed to enjoy bullying him, and that wasn't fair. Especially since Quirrell was so much smaller in comparison.

"Don't dawdle, Miss Smiles," Snape called back, who was far ahead of her and levitating the majority of her bags in front of him. She grabbed Macatee's kennel off the carriage and sped after the professor until they reached a secluded gargoyle down one hall.

"Chocolate-covered strawberries," said Snape.

Polly gave a quizzical look, "Pardon?" but realized immediately that Professor Snape hadn't been talking to her, but to the gargoyle, for it was quick to reveal a staircase which they climbed and entered what could only be the office of Albus Dumbledore.

Snape set all of Polly's things down in the center of the room. "I must attend the sorting ceremony. I trust you will find yourself comfortable in the meantime?" said Snape, avoiding eye contact yet again.

"Yes, sir," Polly pretended to be interested in the carpet, which was, indeed, a very ornate carpet.

"Then I take my leave, Miss Smiles," Snape hesitated for a slight moment, as if to take in her appearance on more time, then brushed past her and out of the office.

Macatee meowed enthusiastically. "Alright, I'm coming." Polly finally set his kennel down and opened it for him. Mac sprinted out and began curiously scanning the office. There was a soft cry to her right and Polly saw a ruby-red bird swoop onto its perch beside Dumbledore's desk. Macatee cowered behind one of Polly's bags but Polly slowly approached it.

"Hi," she greeted it. "You must be Fawkes. Professor Dumbledore's written me a great deal about you." The bird spread its wings and hummed. "You're magnificent." It bowed his head as if to thank her.

Polly then turned on her heels and observed the rest of the office. There were various odds and ends that Polly could only guess what a headmaster may use them for. All over the walls were portraits of previous headmasters and headmistresses, each of them in deep slumber. Well, all but one. The elderly man studied Polly, "I say, shouldn't you be at the ceremony with the others?"

"No, sir," Polly said. "I don't turn eleven until Friday."

"Then what on earth are you doing here?"

Polly shrugged. "To be honest, I'm not entirely sure."

"Dippet," another portrait woke, "lower your voice. Some of us would, in fact, enjoy getting some shuteye."

"Surely you can afford to lose a few minutes rest, Phineas. It's not every day a prodigy enters this office."

"Oh, I'm no prodigy," Polly interjected. "Really, I'm just lucky to be here."

"Nonsense!" Dippet exclaimed. "You must be Polly Smiles. The headmaster has been preparing your arrival all week. You must be someone special."

"Well, I…"

"Pardon me," Phineas Black interrupted, "Smiles was it?"

"Yes."

"Any relation to Lucinda Smiles?"

"She was my mother, sir." Polly patiently waited for the usual response that was sure to follow.

Black turned to Dippet, "Well, of course she's something special. She's part Malfoy, no doubt. A fine, pure-blooded family." He looked back to her, "You and I are distantly related, you know."

"I know," she said, wondering why he wasn't accusing her parents for being blood-traitors but deciding to let it go.

"Well, it's no wonder you've been accepted early," Black continued. "You're bound to be brilliant."

"No, sir. I…"

"Make a fine Slytherin, of course. All Malfoys and Blacks do."

"But I…"

"Of course, there _were_ a few exceptions. Disgraces, the lot of them. Can't believe any Black would be able to land themselves in Gryffindor, but, alas, it happens. I suppose it would be acceptable if you are sorted into Ravenclaw. Imagine the shame if you are sorted into Hufflepuff."

"Confound it, Phineas. There is nothing wrong with being a Hufflepuff," Dippet glared at Black's portrait.

"There is _everything_ wrong with being a Hufflepuff," Black fired back. Polly started backing away toward the door.

More portraits woke and put in their two knuts. "They're at it again." "We're trying to sleep, sirs!" "Bloody house feuds…" "This is why I was a proud Gryffindor." "Here, here!" "Merlin's beard, you're just as bad as they are." "And who has one the house cup for the past seven years?" "Not this argument again…" "Ravenclaw shall win this year!" "That's what you said last year." "And we were only fifty points from claiming the cup." "Will you all be quiet?"

The noise was too overwhelming. Polly left the portraits to their arguing and slipped out the office door. The halls were deserted except for the sounds coming from the office. She walked further and further away but there were still many voices, this time in front of her, not behind. Polly found herself in somewhat of a foyer, and there were two large doors, shut, that the noise was coming from. It sounded like cheering.

Polly pressed an ear to the door and, when the cheers died down, heard a woman call "Malfoy, Draco!" _This must be the sorting ceremony_, she thought. There was barely a pause when a booming voice screamed, "SLYTHERIN!"

Polly sighed with relief, knowing she'd never hear the end of it if he'd been sorted anywhere else.

There couldn't have been many people left now.

"Moon"…, "Nott"…, "Parkinson"…, then a pair of twin girls, "Patil" and "Patil" …, then "Perks, Sally-Anne"…, and then, at last, "Potter, Harry!"

Polly's breath caught in her throat at the mention of his name. Immediately, she heard the whispering of students and felt sorry for Harry and how nervous he must feel. She cracked the giant door open just enough to be able to see the hat being lowered onto his head. The whole hall became eerily quiet. Every student and teacher, eager to see which house the famous Harry Potter would be sorted into.

They waited. Polly could see Harry's lips twitching, as if speaking. His sorting was taking considerably longer than the ones before him until finally, "GRYFFINDOR!"

The choice echoed all the way to the doors and the table full of Gryffindors cheered louder than anyone. Polly even saw the Weasley twins yelling "We got Potter! We got Potter!" and it made her laugh.

Harry looked more relieved than any of the students. A ghost patted him on the shoulder and some of the teachers stood and clapped for him.

Three sorted students later, Albus Dumbledore had gotten to his feet, pleased to see everyone. "Welcome!" he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!

Thank you!"

Everyone applauded and he sat back down. Polly shook her head with amusement when the sudden smell of roast beef, potatoes, and pudding wafted to her nose. Her mouth watered and her stomach grumbled, and just as she was going to run back to the office to avoid the torture of the delicious scent, she turned to find a small table with her very own meal on it. Confused, Polly peered back though the crack-opened door and saw Dumbledore raise his glass to her.

Polly smiled and took her own glass of pumpkin juice and plate of food away from the Great Hall's entrance and into one of Hogwarts many courtyards where she ate alone but hardly minded. Her brain was too busy trying to process all the wonderful madness bestowed upon her so suddenly. For her, life couldn't possibly be any better.

She did wonder, however, where the sorting hat might place her one day. It was an interesting question. Seeing how Harry had been sorted into Gryffindor made her long to a part of that house, but being a pure-blood and descendent of a Malfoy, as Phineas Nigellus Black had pointed out, gave her a better chance of being sorted into Slytherin. Polly supposed it couldn't be all bad. At least she would be with Draco, but even Draco had been frightening her lately.

By the time she finished her thoughts – and meal – students were exiting the Great Hall, being led by older, more experienced students. Polly made sure to stay hidden from view and then, when the coast was clear, she began her walk back to Dumbledore's office where, hopefully, the ex-headmasters and mistresses had fallen back asleep.

Unfortunately, she found herself in an unfamiliar corridor where a something that looked like a ghost was picking up walking sticks. She gasped and the ghost spun sharply and zoomed towards her. "Well well well! A student trespassing already? Naughty naughty, ickle girl!"

"I'm not trespassing!"

He twirled around her. "We shall see, we shall see! Mr. Filch will not be happy!"

"Who is Mr. Filch?"

"Oh!" he cackled. "A Firstie! What fun!" He tugged at her hair.

Polly fought him off. "Ow! Stop that!"

A craggy-looking old man came running on a limp leg with a cat following him. "Peeves!" he shouted.

"Oh!" Peeves dropped his walking sticks on the man's head. "Filchy! Student out of bed!"

Mr. Filch made a grab for Polly but she jumped out of his way. "You don't understand," she explained, "I must get back to Professor Dumbledore's office! He.."

"I'll take care of this, Argus."

Professor Dumbledore, as if on cue, place a hand on Polly's shoulder and winked at her. Polly sighed.

"Peeves," Dumbledore spoke to the poltergeist, "would you mind lying low for the night? You've already caused enough fear in the first years as it is, and I suspect Mr. Filch could use a bit of rest after the mess you cause in the trophy room. Again."

"Dumbledorey is _so_ wise! He _always_ picks on the poltergeist!" Peeves pouted and swished off.

"Fool," Dumbledore shook his head. "'Wise' and 'poltergeist' don't even rhyme. Argus, would you mind, next time you find Miss Smiles here alone in the hallway, helping her to wherever it is she needs to go? I apologize for not informing you earlier, but Miss Smiles is to be my special guest this year."

"Yes, sir." Filch said, embarrassed.

"The same goes for you, Mrs. Norris," said Dumbledore to the cat which flicked its tail and started off in the other direction. Filch hurried after it and Dumbledore led Polly back to his office where the portraits were, indeed, asleep again and Macatee slept in Dumbledore's chair.

"I trust you found your meal to your satisfaction?"

"Oh, yes, sir! The best I've eaten in, well, a long time." she eagerly replied.

"Wonderful!" Dumbledore handed Fawkes a dead mouse. "Then shall we get you situated?"

"Yes, please."

He waved his wand at Polly's things and they disappeared. "I've sent them to a special room we've set aside for you this year. It's small, but I'm sure quite large compared to what you are used to." He climbed the stairs to the second story in the office and opened one of the doors. He was right, it was a small room, but much large than what the Malfoys had given her.

"It's perfect," she smiled, "but where will you sleep?"

"My dear, the headmaster's bedroom remains a secret. Hogwarts tradition."

"Oh, of course," Polly blushed. "I just wanted to make sure I wasn't moving anyone out of their quarters…" Macatee ran under Polly's legs and leaped onto her bed, making himself perfectly comfortable.

Dumbledore laughed. "You ought to be more like your cat, Polly. Simply accept what is given to you and don't question why."

"I'll try to remember that, sir."

"As I am sure you will. Now off to bed. You've got a rather busy term ahead of you and I expect you downstairs in my office and ready by nine o'clock."

"Yes, sir!" Polly couldn't help but hug the man who had basically given her the freedom she'd wished for. "Thank you," she said.

He wrapped his arms around her and chuckled. "Whatever for?"

She laughed and skipped into her bedroom. Not broom cupboard, _bedroom_. "Everything!"

"You are most certainly welcome," and Dumbledore close the door behind him.

**AN: And bam. Done. I know this took forever and I do apologize. Life is busy. Anywhoo… questions/comments/concerns? This chapter was rather rushed, I know. The first book will be like that. When she starts to interact with Harry is when we'll get into the fun stuff. (Heh, during my college algebra class I had this sudden urge to write about Harry and Polly and the Felix Felicis part in book 6. **_**So**_** far from now, but I'm still really excited for it!)**


	8. The Purpose

**AN: Eeeesh, I'm sorry. Long time, I know. Thanks to those who are sticking with me, though! I **_**really **_**appreciate it.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or its characters. I love Ms. Rowling and everything she's given me and would never steal from her.**

Chapter Eight – The Purpose

At eight thirty the next morning, Polly rolled out of her bed and changed from her pajamas into her violet robes. There was a plate of pancakes on her nightstand and a saucer of milk on the floor which Mac was already taking advantage of. Polly combed her hair back behind a black headband and scarfed down her breakfast, then raced downstairs where Albus Dumbledore sat at his desk, writing a letter.

"Nine on the dot," he applauded, checking his pocket watch. "We have to start early in order to not interfere with the professors' teaching times."

"But, sir," Polly was still confused, "why don't I just sit in the class with the other first years? Wouldn't it be easier? And then you wouldn't have to pull the professors in here during their free time."

Professor Dumbledore stood and walked over to one of his many glass cupboards. He retrieved a tiny jewelry box, then motioned for Polly to have a seat in front of his desk. "Indeed, your idea would be much less time-consuming," he said, "but would interfere with my plans for you."

"Plans, sir?"

"Dumbledore handed Polly the jewelry box. "As I have said before, I believe you are destined for great things. Unfortunately, that requires me to keep you hidden this year."

"Hidden?"

"Well, more along the lines of: I can't let you draw too much attention. Speaking of which," Dumbledore pulled a pair of glasses out from an inside pocket of his robes and handed them to Polly, "would you mind wearing these for the time being?"

"But I don't need glasses," she protested. "My eyesight is fine."

"Yes, but glasses do a great deal for hiding one's face. You'd look like a completely different person with them on which is what we're going for."

Reluctantly, Polly did put them on. The lens were just glass, no enhancement to her already 20/20 vision. When she looked in the mirror Dumbledore handed her, however, her eyes weren't violet anymore. They looked a muddy brown. She sighed at the black, rectangular frames. They weren't completely unflattering and she supposed they would only be temporary, until she could come "out of hiding." Then Polly looked at her lap. "Should I open this?" she held up the box.

"Well, I didn't hand it to you for entertainment, did I?" he chuckled.

Polly giggled a little and opened the box. Inside she found a crescent moon-shaped pendant dangling on an ancient-looking silver chain. The pendant was a clear crystal and, quite possibly, one of the most beautiful objects Polly had ever laid eyes on. "It's wonderful."

Dumbledore nodded. "It was a gift to you from your mother, and I have reason to believe you were wearing this same pendant the night she died."

Polly swallowed. "You mean, the night she was murdered by…"

"Voldemort, yes."

Polly looked at the aged wizard warily. "Can you tell me more about that night, Professor? About my parents?"

"All in due time, Polly." Dumbledore assured her. "And, I suspect, very soon. I give you my word."

She sighed, "Alright…" Polly ran her fingers lightly over the chain of her necklace. Though she was barely touching it, Polly felt surges of energy, magic, or power (or quite possibly a combination of the three) run from her fingertips to her toes. She snatched her hand back and looked at Dumbledore. "What just happened?"

The headmaster leaned forward in his seat. "How do you feel?"

"I…" she exhaled and slouched in her chair. "Strange. Like a whole lot of feelings at once. Calm and carefree but also a bit menacing. A bit dangerous. It's as if that thing bit me and comforted me at the same time." She rubbed her aching forehead. "I don't feel like myself."

"Or perhaps you feel more like yourself."

"Pardon?"

"When you are ready, Polly, I must ask that you put on the necklace."

Polly looked down at the box in her lap. "It isn't dangerous, is it?"

"Oh, I shouldn't think so," Dumbledore said calmly. "In fact, I have reason to believe it contains some powerful protection magic. It wouldn't let myself or anyone other than you touch it without being burned. As you are unsigned, I believe it would be safe to assume it will not harm you."

Polly hesitated, but the door swung open at once. A tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes stood there. She had a very stern face and Polly's first thought was that this was not someone to cross. "Headmaster, I do wish you would do something about Peeves," she came in, looking frazzled.

"Minerva, at this point, I don't know what else I _can_ do about our pesky poltergeist."

Professor McGonagall huffed and took her place by Dumbledore's side. She studied Polly with kind eyes, despite her strict first impression. "Albus! You mean to say this is the same Polly Smiles we delivered not eleven years ago?"

"The very same."

"My, my," she smiled. "Well, aren't you lovely?"

Polly blushed, thinking only of the glasses and how not-lovely they must look on her. "Thank you, Professor."

"Well then," Dumbledore stood and inconspicuously put Polly's pendant in a desk drawer, "if you ladies would excuse me, I have Ministry matters to attend to." He left with a loud _pop_.

For the next hour, Professor McGonagall went over the basics of Transfiguration and, by the end of their allotted time, Polly had turned her first match into a needle. McGonagall smiled proudly, "You have a real talent for transfiguring, my dear. I should only hope my next batch of first years is as eager to learn."

She left and then a rather tiny wizard entered immediately, introducing himself at Professor Flitwick. He found Polly charming and rather gifted and couldn't wait to get on to more advanced charms.

After Flitwick came Professor Sprout with Herbology. This subject was the most difficult of all for Polly, but Sprout assured her very few had a knack for plants.

Professor Binns was boring but memorizing dates and historical figures was something Polly was used to and found therapeutic. The same went for Professor Vector and Arithmancy.

Finally, Severus Snape walked in with a few potions in hand. He gave her a quick lesson in discipline then a pop quiz to see if she had read her books prior to school, which, of course, she had. Polly knew that asphodel and wormwood made Draught of the Living Death. She knew a bezoar was antidote to most poisons and that aconite, monkshood, and wolfsbane were all the same plant. Snape was so impressed, he promised twenty points to whatever house she would be sorted into the next year, which she guessed he hoped would be his own, Slytherin.

They spent some time identifying the potions he'd brought and then he asked her to brew a Cure for Boils, which she did perfectly. There was a hint of a smile on the professor's face when he said, "Just like your father."

At that moment, Dumbledore popped back in with a cheerful expression. "Well," he said. "Like your father, I hear? Skilled wizard. Very skilled at potions." 

Polly smiled at him with gratitude and continued cleaning her workplace.

"What do you think of your courses?"

Polly looked up again. "I love them, sir. Herbology is rather challenging, though, and I wouldn't know about Defense Against the Dark Arts. I didn't have it today."

"Oh?" Dumbledore extended a quizzical look to Snape who was reviewing Polly's short essay on the Cure for Boils.

"Quirrell claims he is sick. Something about a Finnigan and a zombie," Snape explained.

"Ah, yes, of course. Well, no matter. All in due time. Say, what do you think of Polly's glasses, Severus?"

Snape gave Polly a hard look. "I think it does well to serve your purpose, Headmaster. I wouldn't have recognized her."

Polly was about to explode. So many secrets and hidden answers hung in the air and she had just about enough, but before she could ask what "purpose" they were talking about (again), Dumbledore invited her to join them in the Great Hall for dinner. Polly was so excited to be eating in the Great Hall and at the staff table, she let go of her questions for the moment. The only requirement as that she had to continue wearing the concealing glasses.

She sat in between Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall. Many students noticed the new girl but shrugged it off when they saw she wasn't wearing any school robes, assuming she was just a guest of Dumbledore's and that it was nothing out of the ordinary. The other students were too busy eating so they didn't see her at all.

Polly watched them all while she ate slowly, feeling out of place. She saw the Weasley twins flicking mashed potatoes at Hufflepuffs then run out of the Hall with Filch hobbling after them.

Then Polly caught Draco's eye. He sat smugly, almost royally, at the Slytherin table, surrounded by Crabbe and Goyle. Draco crinkled his nose and pointed to her glasses. All she could do was shrug and give him a weak smile. When Crabbe asked him was he was looking at, Draco said something to make him mind his own business and then went back to his turkey breast, stealing little glances at his cousin every now and then.

Polly then turned her attention back to the Gryffindor table and found Harry Potter. He was laughing along with (who she assumed was) one of the younger Weasleys, the both of them eating platefuls of chocolate pudding and topping them with whipped cream. A bossy-looking girl, whom Polly recognized as the girl from Platform 9 and 3/4, was rolling her eyes and pushing a platter of vegetables toward them.

"Chocolate or vanilla?" someone asked Polly.

"Hm?" she pulled her eyes away from the boy who lived and saw Dumbledore smiling at her. "I'm sorry, I didn't hear you."

"I was wondering if you would like chocolate or vanilla pudding. I happen to prefer the vanilla myself. It's very rich and has the sort of flavor that makes me think of a banana, have you noticed that?" She shook her head and he sighed. "Very well. Which would you prefer, dear?"

"I think I'll have chocolate," she glanced back at Harry, "with some whipped cream."

"Ah," she could hear Dumbledore's smile in his voice, "much like our young Mr. Potter, I see."

Polly blushed. "I, er, yes. I mean…"

"It's alright," Dumbledore winked at her while serving her pudding, "you _should_ be keeping an eye on him. It's part of your purpose." Sensing what she was about to ask next, Dumbledore said, "After dinner."

"Yes, sir."

The meal was long and hearty and by the time Polly got back to Dumbledore's office, she wanted to go to bed, but Dumbledore and Snape's presence reminded her she had questions to be answered.

"Now then," Dumbledore walked to his desk and pulled out the box that contained her pendent, "I'd say it's about time you tried this on, wouldn't you?"

Snape took the box from Dumbledore and presented it to her. Polly opened the box and gingerly lifted the chain out, immediately feeling the tingle go through her, but she didn't jump back this time. She undid the clasp and closed it and let the chain fall around her neck. Polly did jump back then, but because of the sheer force she was hit with, not out of surprise. She fell onto the floor, glasses knocked off, and waited for the power surge to die down. When it did, Snape held his hand out to her which she took and stood up again, feeling discombobulated. "What just happened?" she asked.

"See for yourself." Dumbledore led her to a large mirror on his wall and Polly saw… not Polly. The girl in the mirror looked taller and older, much older, like a seventeen year old. She had long, golden brown hair, which had been Polly's hair once, long before it darkened and needed to be cut. Her violet eyes were illuminated and her skin was pale white. There was something else about this girl, too. She had an aura of experience about her. Hardship and power. She looked strong, like she could handle anything. Suddenly, Polly realized that was how she felt. She felt strong and powerful. Experienced. It was like she had become an entirely different person. A person with a purpose.

"But… how?" she asked.

"Your pendant is a very delicate piece of magic," Dumbledore explained. "As I have said before, it contains very powerful protection spells. It seems these protection spells enhance certain features needed for survival, for instance, a striking appearance and a winning attitude."

Polly, feeling confident, raised an eyebrow at him. "What's the matter with my own attitude and appearance?"

He smiled, "Why nothing, of course. Consider this a disguise. A very important disguise to be used when the time comes."

"Time comes for what?"

"Your purpose."

"Which is?"

"To protect Harry Potter," Snape interrupted. "It is something you've done since his life was first put in danger."

"I don't understand," Polly frowned.

"You…" Snape sighed, "Please take off that pendant, I cannot explain this to a… _teenager_."

Polly did as he asked and felt a _woosh_ as the power drained out of her and she returned to her normal size. The whole experience was getting a tad strange for her. Snape gave her back her glasses, which she put on, and then continued. "The night your mother died…"

"_Parents_," Dumbledore corrected with an eye at Snape.

"Right, when you parents died, they were in the same home as the Potters. The reason your uncle and his family refer to your mo- _parents_ as blood traitors is because they were friends with Harry's mother, a Muggle-born. Your parents were seeking refuge from the Dark Lord's rage that night and Lily Potter gave it to them. So when Harry's parents were killed, yours were too. And while everyone cheered for the boy who lived, no one knew that you had lived as well. Furthermore, Professor Dumbledore believes you and your pendant may have had something to do with your survival and that of young Potter's."

Polly simply stood there, gaping. It was so much information to take in at once. Harry Potter, the boy who lived, was a legend for surviving the killing curse but it might have been she who saved him?

"So your purpose, if I may be so bold," Dumbledore reached for her hand and looked seriously into her eyes, "is to protect Harry Potter until the time comes for the two of you to kill Voldemort."

Her own eyes snapped open. "But… Voldemort is dead."

"No," Dumbledore whispered. "No he cannot die. Not yet, you see. Very peculiar theories, as I have mentioned, Miss Smiles. From this point on, you must consider yourself one with Harry. You are his guardian. You are here to observe and protect. No one but myself, Professor Snape, McGonagall know your parents were with Harry's that night. Not even your aunt and uncle realize this. As far as they know, Voldemort found your family on his own. The glasses are to keep your eyes, your very unique eyes, hidden from anyone who may search for you under Voldemort's will. He will be after Harry, I'm sure, but I do not think he will forget you as well. I will teach you to use your pendant for when the time comes. You are, my dear, the girl who lived as well."

"I…" Polly looked from Snape to Dumbledore.

"Perhaps this is too much at one time, Headmaster." Snape stepped forward.

"I do apologize, Polly," Dumbledore patted her hand. "It's so much information and darkness at once and you're so young, but I have completely faith in you."

Polly took her hand out of the headmaster's and stepped back. "I'm sorry, I just… need to breathe." She ran up the office's stairs and into her bedroom, shutting the door behind her and crawling into bed, her pendant still in her hands. She not only survived the killing curse, she saved Harry Potter.

**AN: I really hope you guys like this chapter. So much had to be revealed at once and I'm interested in your reactions to this. More will be explained later in the books, of course. I want to know, does it seem too far-fetched right now? Review please. :)**


	9. The Midnight Duel

**AN: Once again, a big thanks to those who are sticking with me! I really appreciate it. Sorry I've been MIA for… what? Two months, I believe? End of the year exams and a summer music camp (WHERE THERE WAS NO WIFI T_T) and recently got my wisdom teeth taken out. Fun. Anyway, that's my world. Back to Hogwarts, shall we?**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or its characters. I love Ms. Rowling and everything she's given me. Some dialogue and description in this chapter, as well as the chapter title, belong to Ms. Rowling. I just twist things up a bit.**

Chapter Nine – The Midnight Duel

"How are you fairing?" Dumbledore asked when Polly came down the next morning.

Polly looked at the headmaster and smiled a little. "I'm think I'm ready, sir."

She'd decided the night before that there was really no sense in fighting it. Just like after learning her parents had been murdered by Voldemort, she had to move on from the past and, after rationalizing it, she realized there was really nothing to be upset about. Saving the boy who lived made her a hero. A secret hero, but a hero nonetheless. Dumbledore promised he would start teaching Polly soon but gave her a book of protection spells in the meantime, instructing her to focus on her studies.

Every day became the same for her. She'd wake up and get through her private lessons, always sure to have her glasses on unless she was in presence of Professor Snape, who insisted she take them off because it was "distracting" to him. Every night she ate her dinner in the Great Hall and observed the students, especially Harry. By the end of that same week, however, Polly feared she would be hopelessly bored for the rest of the year. At least with the Malfoys she had Diagon Alley trips to look forward to, Dobby and Tippy to talk to, and different chores for different days. Not to mention she had her cousin. The only time she even caught glimpse of Draco now was at dinner, and he was often in deep conversation with his fellow Slytherins.

One Thursday morning, however, Polly woke up surprised. A large, snowy owl was perched at the edge of her bed. At first, Polly had the oddest thought that Harry had sent her something – she remembered seeing Hagrid and the snowy owl at Diagon Alley – but after reading the letter attached, which was from Dumbledore, she learned that the owl was now her own.

_Good morning Miss Smiles and a very happy birthday._

That's right! Today was her eleventh birthday! Polly had been so caught up in her new life, she'd forgotten what day was coming up.

_While I do enjoy the relationship you share with your cat, I felt the need of providing you with an owl for future endeavors. Her name is Hazel, so I'm told. I do hope you like the breed. I'm off to the Ministry to handle personal matters. As another treat, I am giving you liberty to explore the castle more from here on out. Perhaps you may want to eat a meal with your cousin or our Mr. Potter. Just remember to be on time for your lessons and that the third floor corridor and Forbidden Forest are off limits, but I trust you already knew that. Once again, have a wonderful day._

_Professor Dumbledore_

_P.S. Don't forget your glasses._

Polly threw on her black robes and glasses and nearly tripped on her way to the Great Hall. She wasn't planning on having any meal with Harry just yet, but she would enjoy the company of Draco. He was nowhere to be found, however, so she grabbed a bit of toast, as Hazel had already eaten hers, and headed back to the office.

After her private lessons with Professors Flitwick and Binns, her mind started to wander and she found herself staring out at the grounds more. By her last lesson, Transfiguration, she noticed some first years were lining up next to some broomsticks that had been laid out for them. Immediately, she recognized the platinum hair of her cousin and then caught a glint of someone's glasses. Harry's.

Professor McGonagall entered just then and began to review yesterday's lesson, but Polly was too preoccupied by the going-ons outside. Each of the first years placed one of their hands over the broom and shouted something. Harry's broom jumped into his hand at once, but it was one of the few that did.

"Miss Smiles," McGonagall said sternly. "What did I just say?"

Polly shook her head truthfully. "I'm sorry, I don't know Professor."

"Please pay attention. Yesterday we started working on…"

But Polly's gaze shifted to the courtyard again. Everyone was now mounting their brooms. The instructor corrected Draco many times and Polly smirked to herself. Her uncle would hear of this.

"Miss Smiles," McGonagall said again.

They all mounted their brooms.

"Polly Smiles!"

But one boy pushed off too early and too hard and was rising straight up like a cork shot out of a bottle. "Professor!" Polly jumped up. "Look!" The boy slid sideways off the broom and landed hard, facedown on the grass in a heap.

"Good heavens!" exclaimed Professor McGonagall.

The flying instructor rushed to the boy immediately and examined him. They stood up and McGonagall breathed a sigh of relief. The instructor held onto his hand and led him away from the courtyard and the shocked first years. "It appears to be a broken wrist," McGonagall said. "No matter, Madam Hooch has it taken care of now and Madam Pomfrey, I'm sure, will mend it soon enough. Thank goodness he's alive."

"Yes…" Polly agreed. She was distracted by her cousin's sudden outburst of laughter, however. Soon the rest of the Slytherins joined him while the Gryffindors fought back. Draco snatched something up out of he grass, a ball it looked like, and held it up triumphantly. Then Harry approached him and everyone else backed off.

Meanwhile, McGonagall returned to Professor Dumbledore's desk. "May we continue, then?"

Polly nodded but her eyes were still on Harry and Draco. Suddenly, her cousin was in the air, flying circles around the students the way his father had taught him. Polly stood up immediately and ran to the window, quickly joined by the frantic McGonagall.

Polly had seen this kind of behavior with her cousin before. He was provoking a fight. _Don't do it, Harry._ She willed silently.

Harry grabbed his broom. _Oh, no._ The bushy haired girl yelled at him, but he ignored her and soared up, making flying look surprisingly easy. McGonagall gasped at Polly's side. All the Gryffindors were cheering for him and Polly found she was silently cheering as well.

"This has gone far enough!" McGonagall shouted, already out the door. Polly chased after her, her heart pounding. One of them, or both of them, was about to get into serious trouble and she feared for them either way. They made it to the entrance of the courtyard just in time to see the ball soaring through the air and Harry making a spectacular catch.

"He caught it?" McGonagall exclaimed.

Polly smiled. "He caught it."

Draco was already on the ground and Harry landed gently into the grass, the ball clutched safely in his fist.

"HARRY POTTER!" McGonagall ran towards him. Polly caught Draco's eye and inconspicuously walked toward him. Harry got to his feet, trembling. "_Never_ – in all my time at Hogwarts –" Professor McGonagall was speechless with shock. " – how _dare_ you – might have broken your neck –"

A girl stood in Harry's defense. "It wasn't his fault, Professor–"

"Be quiet, Miss Patil."

"But Malfoy –"

"That's _enough_, Mr. Weasley. Potter, follow me now."

Polly frowned in disbelief and confusion. McGonagall knew Draco was just as guilty. Where was she taking Harry?

She watched them walk out of sight then turned to her cousin who had a smug look on his face. "Bet you didn't catch that, did you?" Draco elbowed her.

Polly rolled her eyes. "No, I saw it alright."

The other students started to disperse in their own ways. The Weasley eager to catch up with his friend but unsure of which way to go while Crabbe and Goyle hung around Draco like lost puppies.

"Hey," Crabbe glared, "what's she doin' here?"

"Hello, Vincent. Greg." Polly acknowledged the two of them. "Long story short, I'm not a student. We'll leave it at that since I'm sure your minds couldn't handle the rest."

Even Draco smirked at that one. "Come on, cousin." They started walking. "We're headed to dinner now. We had Potions last period and Snape really likes me, just like I said. He rewards me about a hundred house points a day."

Polly gave Draco a raised eyebrow that told him to stop exaggerating, then changed the subject. "Why wouldn't Professor McGonagall punish you as well?"

"Probably didn't see me."

"No," Polly shook her head. "She _did_ see you. I was with her. It was our lesson time. I don't understand why she only took Harry."

"Who cares?" scoffed Draco.

"I care! It's not right!" she said as they entered the Great Hall.

"Once again, who cares? Are you going to sit with us, or do you have to be all high and mighty up at the teacher's table tonight?" He sat down, Crabbe and Goyle sat across from him, already digging in.

"I'm not 'high and mighty.'" She sat, too. "And, while I don't want you to get punished, Draco, a bit of justice would be nice. It isn't fair." Polly was folding her napkin across her lap just as Pansy sat herself on the other side of Draco.

"Life isn't fair..."

"Hello, Smiles," Pansy sneered, interrupting their conversation.

Polly offered herself some steak, not making eye contact. "Good evening, Pansy."

"Draco," Pansy whispered, "what's _she_ doing here?"

Draco scooted away from her and closer to Polly. "Don't get so close. Your perfume is too strong."

Pansy got up and walked out then, forgetting all about her question. Polly laughed to herself.

"As I was saying," he turned back to her, delicately slicing a green apple, "life isn't fair to those who mess with Purebloods."

Polly dropped her fork. "You're joking, right? What do bloodlines or ancestry have anything to do with it? Draco Malfoy, you are so…"

"It's Potter!" Goyle said with a mouth full of kidney pie.

Draco and Polly both snapped their visions to the Gryffindor table where, sure enough, Harry was sitting with Weasley.

"What?" Polly and her cousin exclaimed simultaneously.

Then the Weasley twins walked up and congratulated Harry for something. "Probably leaving tomorrow morning," Draco declared.

"Seems to have a surprisingly good appetite, if that's the case," Polly laughed. "I don't think he's going anywhere."

Draco's eyes narrowed. "We shall see. Crabbe, Goyle. Come with me. Be back in a bit, cousin."

Polly continued eating her steak, glancing at the troubled Malfoy every so often and the confident-looking Harry. She also caught Professor Dumbledore smiling at her. He raised his glass to her subtly and she did the same. By that time, Draco was back in his seat wearing a scheming grin. "If he's not gone now, he'll certainly be gone by midnight tonight."

She dropped her fork for the second time that night. "What did you do?"

"Challenged him to a wizard's duel," Goyle said, mouth full of cake.

Crabbe nodded happily. "I'm his second!"

"You _what_?" Polly pushed her cousin almost enough to knock him off his seat.

"Watch it!"

"When? Where?"

"Tonight. Midnight in the trophy room."

"Draco! You're barmy! Don't you realize you could get caught, too?"

Draco smirked. "Of course I do! That's not I'm not going to meet him."

"What?" Polly, Crabbe, and Goyle said together.

"You didn't really think I was going to put myself on the chopping block just to fight Potter and his little Weasel friend, did you?"

"But I was your second…" mumbled Crabbe.

"Wait a minute," Polly furrowed her eyebrows. "But you just told them…"

"I did, and before we head back to our common room I plan on telling that Filch character as well. So, if Potter goes at midnight, Filch will catch him and…"

"Draco!"

"… Potter will be expelled by morning."

Crabbe and Goyle nodded slowly and snickered.

"I can't believe you!"

"Believe it, cousin."

"I'm going to tell him."

"Right, because he'll believe someone he's never seen before. Not even wearing school robes. Can't even tell what house you're in. His heart is so set on dueling with me tonight, I would bet that, if you told him, he would assume I was tricking him into not dueling and it would make me look like a coward."

"You _are_ a coward."

"No, I'm a Slytherin."

As much as it disgusted her, Draco certainly had a point. What made her think Harry would believe her? What made her think Harry would be dumb enough to fight her cousin, anyway? Maybe he was planning on not showing up as well. Of course, she also thought he wouldn't fly up to meet Draco either, but that's not what happened.

"Happy birthday, by the way."

Polly smiled a little. "Thanks for remembering."

She ate the rest of her meal in silence and, when Draco and his mates went their way, she went hers, three words in her mind. _Midnight. Trophy room._ If she was to be Harry's protector, there was no better time to start than tonight.

When Polly reached Dumbledore's office, she quickly recapped the day for him. Ending her tale with "Excuse me, I'm terribly exhausted. I think I shall go to bed now."

Dumbledore nodded. "Of course, of course. But don't you want to know what happened to Mr. Potter?"

Intrigued, Polly turned back around. "Yes, sir. Detention?"

"On the contrary," Dumbledore smiled. "He's to be the Seeker for the Gryffindor Quidditch team."

Polly's jaw dropped open in surprise. "Really, sir?"

"Indeed, indeed. Now run along, Polly. Many more lessons tomorrow."

She went into her room and shut the door behind her, feeling a little guilty for not telling Dumbledore what was going to happen, but she didn't want Harry and his friend to get into trouble. It was best this way. Now all she had to do was wait. She changed into her pajamas and slippers, fed Mac and Hazel, and read her book of protection spells until it was five minutes to midnight.

"Here goes nothing," she said to her pets.

She checked to make sure Dumbledore was no longer in his office, and he wasn't, then tiptoed her way to the door, also careful not to wake any of the portraits. When Polly was clear of the office, she stopped suddenly. "Oh no," she whispered. She didn't know where the trophy room was.

A ghost flew past her and made her shiver. She folded her arms across her chest and walked toward the main staircase. Surely, it couldn't be too hard to find.

"Come along, my pretty," a rough voice said to her right. Polly ducked behind a suit of armor just in time to see Filch and Mrs. Norris walk by.

They climbed the staircase up the third floor. _That must be where the trophy room is_, Polly deduced. She crept up the stairs after them, pausing at the ends of corridors so that she would not be seen. Filch and his cat walked through a doorway. "Sniff around, my sweet, they might be lurking in a corner." Polly swallowed and hurried after him silently. "They're in here somewhere, probably hiding."

Then there was a loud _crash_, enough to wake the whole castle. It sounded like a suit of armor had fallen over. Someone, she guessed Harry, shouted, "RUN!" and they did. Harry out of the gallery, Filch after the noise, and Polly after Filch. She was faster than he was and, in no time, snuck ahead of him. She ended up somewhere miles from the trophy room. Harry and his friends, not just Weasley but the bushy haired girl and the one who fell off his broom as well, caught their breaths. She hid behind a tapestry.

"Malfoy tricked you," the bushy haired girl said to Harry. "You realize that, don't you? He was never going to meet you – Filch knew someone was going to be in the trophy room, Malfoy must have tipped him off."

Polly marveled at the girl who was very bright for her age.

"Let's go," said Harry, but they hadn't gone more than a dozen paces when a doorknob rattled and something came shooting out of a classroom in front of them. It was Peeves. He caught sight of them and gave a squeal of delight.

"Shut up, Peeves – please – you'll get us thrown out."

Peeves cackled. "Wandering around at midnight, Ickle Firsties? Tut, tut, tut. Naughty, naughty, you'll get caught."

"Not if you don't give us away, Peeves, please."

"Yes. _Please_, Peeves," Polly whispered. She wanted to run out there and help them, but didn't know what she would do. It struck her that this whole idea may have been a worthless. What was she planning on doing, anyway? She wasn't confident enough to actually confront Harry or his friends. She didn't know them. She didn't know many spells that could help them.

"Get out of the way," snapped Weasley. He took a swipe at Peeves. Big mistake.

"STUDENTS OUT OF BED!" Peeves bellowed, "STUDENTS OUT OF BED DOWN THE CHARMS CORRIDOR!"

"PEEVES!" Polly shouted at him, pushing the tapestry to the side and chasing after the poltergeist. Luckily, Harry and his friends had already run for their lives down the right end of the corridor.

"Oh goody! It's the teacher's pet!" Peeves hooted and tugged at her hair.

Filch finally caught up and Polly froze. That's it. She was going to get expelled and she wasn't even a student yet. "Which way did they go, Peeves? Quick, tell me," he spat.

"Say 'please.'"

"Don't mess with me, Peeves, now _where did they go_?"

"Shan't say nothing if you don't say please," said Peeves in his annoying singsong voice.

"All right – _please_."

"NOTHING!" he laughed. "Told you I wouldn't say nothing if you didn't say please!" Peeves then zoomed away with Filch cursing in rage. He stopped suddenly when he saw Polly still frozen in fear.

"Why are you up, girl? Come to see your little friends, did you?"

Polly swallowed which gave her a bit of confidence. "I don't know what you're talking about," she said, slowly steering Filch away from the corridor so that Harry could escape. "Professor Dumbledore gave me permission to explore the grounds and I wound up on the third floor. _Alone_. I don't know what 'friends' you might have been talking about because I certainly didn't see anybody. What gave you the idea I was meeting anyone?"

Filch snarled under his breath something about a "Slytherin" and "always playing pranks." Polly giggled a little.

"Well, I can report _you_," he grabbed her wrist. "Come on, then. What house are you in?"

"I'm not in any house," she struggled to break free of his grasp. "I'm Dumbledore's special guest, remember?"

He stopped and looked at her hard. "You look different."

"I need glasses now. _Please_ let me go. Ask Professor Dumbledore if you don't believe me."

"I plan to." He dragged Polly up to the staircase that led to Dumbledore's office, Mrs. Norris following menacingly behind. Much to Polly's surprise, Dumbledore was sitting at his desk, sipping glass of brandy.

"Good evening, Argus," he smiled calmly.

Filch pushed Polly ahead of him. "Caught this one out of bed, Headmaster. Wandering about the third floor corridor."

"Oh? Now what did I tell you about the third floor, Miss Smiles?"

"I'm sorry, sir." she tried. "I got lost. I started out in the trophy room and didn't know where I was heading."

"That's quite alright," he nodded. "I'm afraid this is all my doing, Argus. I gave Polly permission to explore but neglected to mention when she was allowed. It won't happen again, will it?"

"No, sir."

Filch grumbled again and scooped up Mrs. Norris, leaving the room sourly.

Polly slowly moved her way back to her bedroom but Dumbledore stopped her. "Just a minute, please."

She turned around, ashamed. "Yes, sir?"

"Did Mr. Potter make it back to his common room alright?"

Her eyes widened. "Sir?"

Dumbledore chuckled. "The portraits talk. Apparently the Fat Lady showed up in here about an hour ago and was chatting with Ambrose Swott about a group of Gryffindors sneaking out late at night. Naturally I assumed one of them had to be Harry since you had gotten yourself involved."

"I'm sorry, sir. Like I said, it won't happen again."

"Oh, on the contrary. You did exactly what you needed to do." He smiled. "While I'm not all too happy about the lying, I am proud that you have taken up watching over Mr. Potter."

Polly grinned back. "I'll remember that, then. Thank you."

**AN: Questions? Comments? Concerns? I know this chapter's a little out of sorts. In my defense, I've been writing it for over two months. Part of me really just wants to get this book over with so I can start on **_**Chamber of Secrets**_** but I'm getting ahead of myself.**


	10. Halloween

**AN: Once again, thanks to everyone who reviews and reads and just hangs in there! Everyone is totally awesome. I'm going to give you a heads up, I'm starting my senior year of high school this Wednesday, so I apologize if there are long periods of nothingness. I figured I'd make up for it by popping one out tonight. Hope you enjoy as always and keep the lovely reviews coming. You all are too much. ^-^**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or its characters. I love Ms. Rowling and everything she's given me. Some dialogue and description in this chapter, as well as the chapter title, belong to Ms. Rowling, but it's with a twist. ;)**

Chapter Ten – Halloween

Draco's reaction to seeing Harry still enrolled at Hogwarts during breakfast made Polly's entire morning amusing. Harry and the Weasley looked tired but perfectly cheerful. They chitchatted happily throughout their meal while the bushy-haired girl from the station – whom Polly finally remembered had been called Hermione – gave the two of them nasty glares.

Polly finished her breakfast and went through her daily schedule of private lessons as per usual, but, after dinner that day, Dumbledore had a surprise for her. "I believe," Dumbledore smiled mysteriously, "it's time you and I worked on something a little advanced for your age."

"Like what, sir?" Polly bounced excitedly.

"Wandless magic."

Her eyes widened behind their glasses. Not even her uncle could perform spells without his wand, and she wasn't even a first year yet. "Sir," she exclaimed. "I can't just go into, I mean, I've had no practice. I've barely used my wand as it is."

He chuckled, "Well I didn't say you'd succeed today, did I? I am fully aware, Polly, that this will take time and patience and practice, but I assure you wandless magic is an incredible advantage, particularly when you've lost your wand as I do too often." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Besides," he added, "non-verbal spells are far more difficult, but we will get to that later."

Polly couldn't believe what she was hearing. Professor Dumbledore expected her to perform magic far beyond the knowledge of even a seventh year. He had her start out with a wand, though. Spells like _scourgify _and _reparo._ Another day and Polly had learned _silencio_, managing to silence the portrait of Phineas Nigellus Black before Dumbledore revived him, and _accio_ which gave her trouble at first, but Dumbledore taught Polly how to focus and the quill did finally zoom into her open palm.

"The summoning charm," Dumbledore explained, "is perhaps the easiest of all wandless spells simply because the majority of the spell's success is dependent on your concentration and hand coordination." He took the quill from Polly's hand and place it back on his desk. "That being said, I'm asking you to put your wand down, hold out your hand as you did before, and concentrate."

Polly set her wand on the chair next to her and held her hand open. She squint her eyes and flexed her fingers. "_Accio_ _quill_," she spoke. It didn't move. She concentrated more, clearing her mind of everything but the quill. "_Accio quill_!" she said again. The feather lifted up maybe an inch then fell back down. Polly pouted. "I don't understand."

"Well there's your problem, Polly. You're not supposed to understand. You cannot possibly understand, so don't."

She looked past his half-moon spectacles intriguingly. "Okay," she said slowly. Now she outstretched her hand toward a vial on his shelf. "_Accio vial_!" It flew towards her and she had to catch it with both hands but she did it.

"Stupendous!" Professor Dumbledore applauded her. "But why ever did you choose the vial over the quill?"

"More weight," she explained. "I figured it was like tossing a piece of paper. There's no control. Whereas, if you toss a rock, there's more."

"Brilliant."

Polly tried the quill again after that and it worked perfectly. Dumbledore had her drop the vial. It shattered into perhaps a million pieces, but she repaired it with _reparo_ and a flick of her hands. Black was also silenced again.

"You did wonderfully, my dear," Dumbledore praised her before retiring for the night. "I'm getting quite excited now."

At breakfast the next morning, owls flooded into the Great Hall as usual, but everyone's attention was caught at once by a long, thin package carried by six large screech owls. The parcel soared down and dropped right in front of Harry Potter, knocking his bacon to the floor. Another owl swooped in, leaving him with a letter. Harry and the Weasley ran immediately out of the Great Hall with the parcel, absolute glee on their faces.

McGonagall, who was seated next to Polly, looked positively pleased with herself. "It's a racing broom," she confided with Polly. "I have a good, strong feeling Gryffindor can with the Quidditch Cup this year if Potter learns to ride that broom in time."

"I don't think he needs to learn," Polly smiled at her. "From the way he rode his broom during his lesson, you'd think he's been flying all his life. However…"

"Yes, Miss Smiles?"

Polly shrugged, still worried about Harry having to adapt to customs and sports he'd never learned about before. "You will have someone teach Harry the rules of Quidditch, right?"

McGonagall grinned. "Oh, yes. Tonight. I've already talked to Oliver Wood, he's the Gryffindor Quidditch team captain. Harry's first practice is tonight." She rubbed her hands together anxiously. "I'm getting rather excited."

At that moment, Polly's cousin walked in to the Great Hall in a sour mood. He must have seen Harry's broomstick. A broomstick he didn't have to have his father "smuggle" in. The jealousy on Draco's face was priceless.

"Try again," Professor Dumbledore instructed one afternoon.

Polly glared at the heavy armchair. She was back to using her wand, only because this particular spell, which was required for first years to learn, needed proper wrist movement. Flitwick had taught her the levitation charm earlier that day and she'd easily been able to levitate her feather, but now Dumbledore had her working on heavier objects like lamps, books, and now the armchair.

"Swish and flick," she muttered to herself. "_Wingardium Leviosa_!" The chair rose a couple inches off the ground and Dumbledore was satisfied with that long enough to introduce his next idea.

"Now, Polly," he folded his hands across his lap, "Let's go back to the feather and try to lift it without saying the spell."

"Sir," she protested, "I only learned this spell today."

"And you managed to raise an armchair in that same day. Polly, you're improving faster than you realize."

He was right and she knew he was right. She pointed her long wand at the feather and swished and flicked. _Wingardium Leviosa!_ Nothing. _Clear your mind_, she thought. _Don't try to understand. There's nothing to understand. It is simply magic._ _Swish and flick. Wingardium Leviosa!_ Again, nothing.

Polly must have tried to levitate that feather for over an hour before Dumbledore decided she needed a break for Halloween dinner. He assured her non-verbal spells were the icing on the cake: not necessary at her age but highly impressive.

The Hogwarts decorator, whoever that might be, outdid his or herself on the Great Hall's Halloween decorations. A thousand live bats fluttered from the walls and ceiling while a thousand more swooped over the tables in low black clouds, making the candles in the pumpkins stutter. The feast appeared suddenly on the golden plates. Sweets after sweets on large platters. Pies and pumpkins and seasonal food that was simply delicious.

Polly was just helping herself to a crisp apple when Professor Quirrell came sprinting into the hall, his turban askew and terror on his face. He reached Professor Dumbledore's chair, slumped against the table, and gasped, "Troll – in the dungeons – thought you ought to know."

He then sank to the floor in a dead faint.

There was an uproar. It took several purple sparks exploding from the end of Professor Dumbledore's wand to bring silence.

"Prefects," he rumbled, "lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately!"

They were off and running. Choirs of "Follow me!" and "Excuse me, I'm a prefect!" echoed in the Hall.

Dumbledore turned to Polly with a very serious look. "As soon as the room clears, go straight to my office and do not leave, do you understand?"

A thought suddenly occurred to her, "But what about Harry? He's in danger right? I mean we all are, but I have to watch over him…"

"Harry is being cared for by his prefect. Now there is nothing you can do but wait safely in my office, do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir." she gave in.

"Teachers," Dumbledore turned to his staff, "please follow me to the dungeons." They each left through a side door and Polly was stuck watching the massive crowd die down until she could make it out through the main doors.

"Hang on," she said to herself. Professor Quirrell was no longer passed out on the floor and she knew for sure she didn't see his turban leave with the rest of the teachers. Where could he have gone?

She scanned the crowd for his turban. He was at the front, almost out the doors and headed for the Grand Staircase. That wouldn't take him to the dungeons, would it? Despite Dumbledore's order, she decided to follow. She figured she'd still make it back to his office by the time he'd finished with the troll, right?

Polly pushed her way through the frantic crowd, close but inconspicuously on Quirrell's tail. He stopped at the third floor corridor. The one she and all the rest of the students were forbidden from. This intrigued Polly further. Then Quirrell ran straight to the end of the corridor, stopping at a locked door. Perhaps he was simply frightened and trying to escape? That seemed very Quirrell-like.

He searched his robes earnestly. Overall, he seemed to be very frustrated and pressured. He banged on the door. Polly couldn't help it any longer and ran over to him. "Do you need some help?" she asked.

Quirrell jumped about a foot backwards. "Miss Smiles!" he shrieked, "Y-you scared m-m-me. Y-you sh-sh-sh-shouldn-n't do that!" Even for Quirrell, that stuttering was terrible. He must really be frightened, Polly assumed.

"Are you lost?" she asked.

"N-no. Just, just tr-trying to get through this d-door, but I-I-I'm afraid I d-don't have my wand."

Polly smiled. "Well here, I'll help you." She searched her robes then remembered she'd left her own wand in Dumbledore's office. Oh, well. It couldn't be too hard, could it? She knew the incantation, that was a start. Polly placed her hand over the door's lock and shut her eyes, trying to remove all the noise resonating in the castle. "_Alohomora_!" she cast. Nothing, but Polly tried one more time. "_Alohomora!"_ This time there was a _click_ and the door swung open slightly.

Quirrell gasped and grabbed the door handle from her as quickly as possible. "Thank you," he grimaced. "Now run along, girl." Then he disappeared into the room.

Confused, Polly turned and headed for the office managing only to run flat into Professor Snape. He looked angry. "Why aren't you in the Headmaster's office?" he shouted.

Polly trembled with fear. "I'm sorry, sir! I was helping Professor Quirrell. He was lost or something and I…"

Snape's dark, shaded eyes widened. He grabbed Polly by the shoulders. "Helped him where?"

"There," she pointed to the door she'd just unlocked. "Did I do something wrong?" Polly shook, but Snape didn't answer. Instead, he made a mad dash to the door, unlocking it quickly with his own wand, then entering.

He didn't close the door behind him, so Polly caught a glimpse of the action inside. She saw Snape grab the turbaned man forcefully and fight him. In a split second, Quirrell was floating midair, hanging by his ankle and struggling to hold his turban to his head. Then an awful stench wafted to Polly's nostrils. A low growl was heard and she took a step back. There was a beast in there. It looked like a gigantic dog but there was more to it. The dog moved its head to the left, but another head came into view. A two-headed dog? No. Another head. A three-headed dog. Her eyes widened in absolute terror. She'd never seen a three-headed dog before and screamed when it attacked Snape's leg.

He lost concentration and Quirrell came crashing down. The two professors limped out of the room as fast as possible, Snape holding tightly onto Quirrell's robes. Polly ran over to assist. She helped Snape slam the door shut and lock it then looked up at the two. Snape's leg looked badly wounded. Quirrell looked terribly frightened. Snape had just saved his life, after all.

"Go," Snape ordered Polly sinisterly.

"But…"

"_NOW_."

Polly ran as fast as she could back to Dumbledore's office and away from the third floor corridor. She couldn't comprehend why everyone was so worried about a troll on Halloween when there had been a three-headed monster in the castle the entire time.


	11. Quidditch

**AN: One more easy-going week and then things will be getting pretty ridiculous. Still, I seem to be doing well with the whole spacing-out-my-time, getting-lots-of-writing-done thing. Aren't you proud of me?**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or its characters. I love Ms. Rowling and everything she's given me. Some dialogue and description in this chapter, as well as the chapter title, belong to Ms. Rowling, but Polly's all mine. :)**

Chapter Eleven – Quidditch

Polly didn't want to get out of bed the next morning. She didn't want to face Snape or Quirrell. She wanted to tell Dumbledore what had happened, but he was away on more Ministry business concerning the troll, no doubt. Or perhaps he had heard about the three-headed dog. Professor McGonagall, however, insisted that Polly got up and continued her work even with Dumbledore absent.

Meanwhile, the Quidditch season had begun and the weather turned very cold. Every moment she got, Polly would walk through the frosted grounds, snug in her black coat, scarf, and gloves. Cool weather was sort of a natural habitat for Polly. The colder the air, the happier she was and the calmer she became.

Until Dumbledore came back to continued their private lessons, Polly had plenty of free time to visit the school library where she would always see Harry's friend, Hermione. With the Gryffindor versus Slytherin match approaching and the added whispers around school halls about Harry Potter being Gryffindor's "secret weapon," Polly had an idea to help Harry ease his nerves.

She found Kennilworthy Whisp's book right where it ought to be on one of the library's shelves one day, and casually walked up to Hermione's side by the charms textbooks. "Excited for Quidditch season?" she asked then bushy-haired bookworm.

Hermione jumped slightly at Polly's voice. "What?" her brown eyes blinked, surprised that someone other than Madam Pince – the Hogwarts librarian – was speaking to her. "Oh," Hermione stuttered, "yes." She began to calm down now. "Though I do wish I knew more about the game. My parents are… er…" she looked hesitant at Polly, wondering if it would be okay to tell her secret.

Polly understood immediately, having grown up with the Malfoys. People were always hesitant when it came to talking about their families. Polly tilted her head inquisitively and Hermione got it out. "Well, my parents are Muggles." Polly knew this, of course, from the way her parents acted at King's Cross, but she didn't say anything about that, just smiled understandably.

"Oh!" Polly exclaimed. "Well, if you're looking for a good, informative read," – and Polly knew she was – "can I suggest _Quidditch Through the Ages_?" She held the book out for Hermione to see and, for her first time, Polly saw Hermione smile.

"Thank you," Hermione took the book graciously from Polly. "You sure you don't want to read it?"

Polly shook her head. "I must've read it a dozen times already. Should probably let someone else give it a go."

"Well thank you again," she turned the book over in her hands. "I have friend, actually, who might find this fascinating. Could be the first book he's ever read, really," Hermione giggled and Polly chuckled along with her. The two girls looked at each other in a brief moment of silence, then Hermione interrupted. "I'm Hermione Granger, by the way."

"I'm Polly," Polly smiled. "Polly Smiles."

Hermione nodded. "Nice meeting you, Polly."

"And you, too." Then Hermione went to check out the book and Polly returned to Dumbledore's office before she was late for her next lesson.

The days were getting even colder. Every morning the ground was covered in frost. Hagrid could be seen from Polly's bedroom window trudging along the courtyards, bundled up in a long moleskin overcoat, rabbit fur gloves, and enormous beaverskin boots. He was the only adult, Polly realized, that she had yet to meet personally. She should like to do that soon.

Dumbledore had returned from wherever he'd gone, but Polly wasn't ready to ask him any questions that morning. She decided she would wait until their private lessons in the evening. When Professor Snape had limped in for her potions lesson, however, Polly noticed he had a copy of _Quidditch Through the Ages_ with him. Of course, if could just be coincidence. There were certainly more than just one copy of the book in the school library, but for a potions master to be reading about Quidditch seemed far-fetched. She chose to ask about it.

"Sir?"

Snape looked up from his demonstrative cauldron. "Yes?"

"Where did you get that book?"

He frowned. "Confiscated it from a student, but that's none of your business, Miss Smiles. Return to your work."

She ignored him. "Did you take that from Hermione?"

"No."

"Harry?"

"Please return to your cauldron or your potion could turn out poorly."

"You did take it from Harry, didn't you?" Polly frowned. "But why? It's just a library book."

"POLLY, THAT'S ENOUGH."

Polly, again taken aback by Snape's terrifying order, went back to stirring her potion counter-clockwise before it melted the pewter and didn't utter a word for the rest of her lesson.

Professor Dumbledore and Polly worked more on wandless magic that evening. "Excellent work, Polly!" he cheered. "You've been practicing in my absence, I see." Polly thought of the wandless spell she had used to get that door open on Halloween.

"You could say that, sir," she replied.

Dumbledore eyed her suspiciously behind his half-moon spectacles. "Is something troubling you, my dear?"

Polly wanted to tell him everything, but didn't know how. The third-floor corridor had been off limits to students and she was there. She wasn't even supposed to be out of his office that night. Not only that, but she'd almost gotten Snape and Quirrell killed with her wanting to show off her new skill. But she hadn't really wanted to show it off, had she? She was only trying to help. Hadn't Snape told Dumbledore anything of that night yet? Or Quirrell? Hadn't Dumbledore noticed the awful limping Snape was rendered to? And Snape had been acting quite guarded lately. He snapped at Polly, took Harry's book without any adequate cause, and was often found observing Quirrell most strenuously.

She look up at Dumbledore through her own lenses. "Not really, sir," she lied. "Perhaps I'm just a bit nervous for the Quidditch match tomorrow."

"Ah yes," Dumbledore smiled knowingly. "Mr. Potter's first game. Better get your sleep, then. Won't want to miss this."

The next morning dawned very bright and cold. The Great Hall was full of the delicious smell of fried sausages and the cheerful chatter of everyone looking forward to a good Quidditch match.

By eleven o'clock, Polly was standing with the faculty next to Severus Snape. It wasn't Polly's ideal choice, but Dumbledore insisted she be accompanied by Snape. Over in the Gryffindor's section, a large banner flashed different colors reading _Potter for President_. Snape seemed disgusted, but Polly liked it very much.

Then the two teams walked into the pitch and the whole stadium roared for their favorites. The referee – whom Polly learned was called Madam Hooch – stood in the middle of the field waiting for the two teams, her broom in her hand.

The teams mounted their booms, the Quaffle was released, and fifteen brooms rose up, high into the air. "And the Quaffle is taken immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor – what an excellent Chaser that girl is, and rather attractive, too – "

"JORDAN!"

"Sorry, Professor."

Polly held her hands tightly together, keeping her eyes on Harry and only on Harry. Catching only bits and pieces of the commentator's words. "… Alicia Spinnet, a good find of Oliver Wood's … Slytherins have taken the Quaffle, Slytherin Captain Marcus Flint gains the Quaffle … he's going to sc- no, stopped by an excellent move by Gryffindor Keeper Wood … Chaser Katie Bell of Gryffindor there, nice dive around Flint … OUCH – that must have hurt … Quaffle taken by Slytherins … Fred or George Weasley, can't tell which – nice play by the Gryffindor beater, anyway, and Johnson … dodges a speeding Bludger … dives … misses … GRYFFINDORS SCORE!"

Gryffindor cheers filled the cold air, with howls and moans from the Slytherins. Harry did a couple of loop-the-loops to let off his feelings. Polly felt her heart stop when a Bludger decided to come pelting his way, but he dodged it and one of the Weasley twins went chasing after it.

"Slytherin in possession … two Bludgers, two Weasleys … wait a moment – was that the Snitch?"

Harry and the Slytherin Seeker dove for it immediately, neck and neck. Polly was at the edge of her seat. Harry was faster than the other Seeker. He was almost there…

WHAM! Polly gasped. Marcus Flint had blocked Harry on purpose and Harry's broom spun off course, Polly squeezing her own hands for dear life.

"Foul!" she screamed with the rest of the Gryffindors. Snape gave her a disapproving look, which Polly forgave him for as he was the head of Slytherin house.

Madam Hooch spoke angrily to Flint and then ordered a free shot at the goalposts for Gryffindor.

"So – after that obvious and disgusting bit of cheating – "

"Jordan!" growled Professor McGonagall.

"I mean, after that open and revolting foul – "

"_Jordan, I'm warning you_ – "

"All right, all right. Flint nearly kills the Gryffindor Seeker, which could happen to anyone, I'm sure, so a penalty to Gryffindor, taken by…"

Harry dodged another Bludger and then it happened. His broom gave a sudden, frightening lurch. For a split second, Polly thought he was going to fall.

It happened again. It was as though the broom was trying to buck him off. But Polly knew broomsticks from her days with Draco and Nimbus Two Thousands did not suddenly decide to buck their riders off. Harry tried to turn back toward the Gryffindor goalposts but his broom was completely out of his control. He couldn't turn it. He couldn't direct it at all. It was zigzagging through the air, and every now and then making violent swishing movements that almost unseated him.

"… Slytherins score…"

The Slytherins were cheering. No one seemed to have noticed Harry was in deep trouble. Polly stood, scanned the boxes for Dumbledore. Couldn't he do something? She turned to Snape. "What's wrong with Harry's broomstick?!" she shouted at him.

Suddenly, people were pointing up at Harry all over the stands. Snape gave her a concerned look then looked just as shocked as Polly when he saw Harry's aggressive movements. Immediately, Snape started muttering something, keeping close eye contact on Harry, never blinking. Polly guessed it might be a protective spell.

His broom had started to roll over and over, with him only just managing to hold on. Then the whole crowd gasped. He was now dangling from it, holding on with only one hand. She had to do something. She was supposed to protect him. If only Dumbledore would do something!

_There!_ She spotted him. She started fighting her way across the through the stands, but it was practically hopeless. Everyone was so much bigger than her. She pushed her way through, shouting at the teachers who couldn't hear her. They were too into the game and Harry's predicament to let her pass. Then Professor Quirrell fell headfirst on top of her. He looked frustrated, not even apologizing for knocking her over, and stormed off away from the pitch.

A sudden yelp came from the stands and Polly looked over to see the hem of Professor Snape's robes set on fire. He stomped on them, pulled his eyes away from his feet for only a second, and Polly noticed a jar from the row behind him scooping the fire off him and put into the pocket of Hermione Granger's robes. Polly pushed through the crowd, trying to stop Hermione and ask her why she'd done that3, but again it was useless, and anyway, Harry was suddenly able to clamber back onto his broom.

He sped toward the ground, and Polly feared maybe he was still out of control. Then he clapped his hand to his mouth as though he was about to be sick. He hit the field on all fours, coughed, and something gold fell into his hand.

"I've got the Snitch!" he shouted, waving it above his head, and the game ended in complete confusion. Gryffindor had won by one hundred and seventy points to sixty, Snape had run off somewhere, and Polly cheered with everyone else, but perhaps more confused than all of them combined.

**AN: Couple of notes, it's now midnight and a half over here. I've got to get up at 6 tomorrow but I promised I'd get this done before I went to bed. #dedication**

**Favorite line, I must say, was: **"I'm Polly," Polly smiled. "Polly Smiles."** Ah, so much fun to write.**

**And to my brother George, which is actually my friend Ashley, the **"Should probably let someone else give it a go." **said by Polly was written just for you. You know what I'm talking about.**

**Alright, then. Good night. Good morning. Whatever floats your boat. I'm off to dream up the next chapter. Until next time!**


	12. The Mirror of Erised

**AN: Well… I've been busy. Leaving the house at 6:30 every morning and getting home at 10 every night. Yeah. Hanging in there. My classes are tedious, **_**but**_** I am taking a themes in literature class that focuses on? **_**Harry Potter**_**. Yes. And it's so much fun. I have it once a week. Last week I had to have read **_**The Sorcerer's Stone**_**. This week I have to have watched **_**The Sorcerer's Stone**_**. Next week I have to have read **_**Chamber of Secrets.**_** You get the idea. My exams are essays. Dress up for extra credit. It's kind of the best class ever. We were sorted into houses on our first day (I'm in Gryffindor!) and we gain house points for insightful comments. We lose points for mentioning things we haven't read yet or saying "Voldemort" which I don't agree with because "Fear of a name only increases fear for the thing itself." but it's whatever. I'm still excited. I'll have the whole series reread by the end of this semester and hopefully will be able to include some interesting information in my fan fictions.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or its characters. I love Ms. Rowling and everything she's given me. Some dialogue and description in this chapter, as well as the chapter title, belong to Ms. Rowling.**

Chapter Twelve – The Mirror of Erised

Christmas was coming. One morning in mid-December, Hogwarts woke to find itself covered in several feet of snow. The lake froze solid and the Weasley twins were punished for bewitching several snowballs so that they followed Quirrell around, bouncing off the back of his turban. The few owls that managed to battle their way through the stormy sky to deliver mail had to be nursed back to health by Hagrid before they could fly off again.

"Polly?" Dumbledore asked Polly one frosty morning.

She peered up from her book, over her glasses. "Yes, sir?"

"Would you take this letter to our Gamekeeper?" he smiled. "It's just a few instructions on owl care I'm sure he already knows, but one can never be too safe."

Polly was already putting on her coat and gloves. "Of course, sir." She'd wanted to meet Hagrid for some time now. The note in her hand on the way to Hagrid's hut seemed a little too heavy for just owl instructions. It wasn't sealed either. Polly wondered if there was something Dumbledore wasn't telling her, not that she could accuse him for keeping secrets, as Polly still had not told Dumbledore about Halloween and the three-headed dog. She looked at the unsealed envelope once more. Maybe Dumbledore wanted her to read it? Maybe he wasn't deliberately keeping secrets from her? She checked to make sure no one was watching then peered inside to catch only a few words: "Snape," "three-headed," and "Fluffy."

"_Fluffy?_" she furrowed her eyebrows and read a little more of what was inside. Apparently, the dog's name was Fluffy.

"Fluffy?" a gruff voice said from behind her. Polly swirled around on her heels with the note hidden behind her back. Hagrid looked down at her with a confused look. His half-giant ears must have overheard her.

"Stuffy," she said quickly. "Stuffy nose. Cold weather and all."

"Ah," Hagrid sighed with a bit of relief. "Thought perhaps you'd been droppin' eaves or somethin' yeh shouldn't 'ave heard."

Polly smiled innocently. "What do you mean?"

Hagrid looked upset with himself. "Never you mind. What's that yeh got there behind your back?"

"Oh, er…" she handed him the envelope. "Instructions from Professor Dumbledore. About the owls. That's all he told me, that's all I know." It was then she noticed a large fir tree Hagrid was dragging behind him. "Would you like some help?" she offered.

Hagrid gave her a wary look. "Yer the special guest, aren't yeh?"

"Polly Smiles," she held out her gloved hand. "Pleasure to meet you, sir."

Now he chuckled, so deep and loud the branches on the fir shook and the hairs of his moleskin coat stood straight up. "No need teh call me 'sir,' Polly. Good ol' Hagrid will do. Rubeus Hagrid." He shook her hand, or rather, she shook two of his fingers and stepped back.

"Would you like some help, Hagrid?"

"Wha? With this?" he motioned to the fir tree. "'Fraid not, yeh see. Far too big for you. Appreciate the offer, though. Yeh might be able to help Professors McGonagall and Flitwick if yer that keen in helpin' out. They're in the Great Hall decoratin' and such."

Polly nodded, "Yes, thank you." and ran back to the castle. _Fluffy?_

A few moments later, she was busy levitating ornaments onto other fir trees Hagrid had transported. She wanted to try a few without her wand, but Professor McGonagall gave her a stern "no" and Polly decided she'd better not cross her. As Hagrid blocked the corridor with the last fir tree, Polly heard voices and scuffling and then the unmistakable cry from Snape.

"WEASLEY!"

Immediately leaping off her footstool, Polly stood just inside the Great Hall's doorway to listen. "…fighting is against Hogwarts rules, Hagrid," said Snape silkily. "Five points from Gryffindor, Weasley, and be grateful it isn't more. Move along, all of you."

Polly caught sight of Draco and company pushing roughly past the tree, scattering needles everywhere and smirking, and decided to go after him. "Gotten Gryffindor into trouble again, I see?" she sighed.

Draco turned to smirk at her. "I like to think of it as a special talent of mine." She rolled her eyes while Crabbe and Goyle congratulated him once again.

"Which one of the Weasleys was that anyway?" she asked.

"Why do you care?"

"I just like to know people's names, Draco."

He shrugged. "Ron."

"Okay."

"You're coming home for Christmas, right?"

Polly thought. To be honest, she'd forgotten all about back home. Not that she could call that a home. Hogwarts was her home now, wasn't it? "I don't think so," she replied. "I'm pretty busy up here trying to keep up with all you first years."

"So?" Draco frowned.

"So I want to stay here and complete as much as I can before you all start your classes again."

"Father won't be happy to hear that," he warned.

Polly scoffed. "I'm sure my uncle will be _pleased_ to hear I won't be around for his Christmas Cotillion. Aunt Narcissa, especially, will be delighted knowing I can't possibly pull down her social status if I'm nowhere near the party." It was true. Every Christmas, the Malfoys would hold a large ball that Polly had no choice but to attend. That's what the emerald dress she'd been working on for her aunt earlier in the year had been for. Speaking of which, she had better get back on that soon. It only required a few more stitches here and there. Tippy and Dobby would see to the embellishments. Regardless, Polly had always been a wallflower at these parties, or, at most, a bit of entertainment – meaning a target – for Draco's friends. She was relieved to not have to attend this year.

"But it'll be so _boring_," Draco whined.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she replied with mock-pity. "Won't have me there to tease, will you?"

He smirked. "Exactly."

She rolled her eyes with a smile. "Have a good holiday, Draco."

He stopped walking and turned to face her. "What, so that's it?" Polly frowned in confusion. What else could he want? An embrace? A family kiss goodbye? For her to see him off tomorrow? It was very unlike Draco to ask for any of these. Sensing her confusion, he folded his arms with a playful smile. "You don't have a gift for me?"

She sighed with relief and amusement. "Draco Malfoy, you can wait for Christmas."

"No I can't," he chuckled, "but whatever. See you when I get back, cousin."

"Stay out of trouble!" she called after his retreating form. As soon as he and his cronies were out of sight, Polly ran back for her duties in the Great Hall where Hagrid was placing the last tree in the far corner. Everything looked spectacular. Festoons of holly and mistletoe hung all around the walls, and no less than twelve towering Christmas trees stood around the room, some sparkling with tiny icicles, some glittering with hundreds of candles. Professor Flitwick, too, was quite a sight with golden bubbles blossoming out of his wand and trailing them over the branches of the new tree.

Polly carefully snuck past Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Hagrid to return to her footstool where she lit more candles with bluebell flames from behind one of the trees. From her post, she could listen in to their conversation well enough.

"Listen here – I've told yeh – drop it," Hagrid was saying. "It's nothin' to you what that dog's guardin'."

What dog? Surely not Fluffy. Memories of the midnight duel that never happened flashed in Polly's mind. Of course! They had seen the dog, too. They were on the third floor that night. And they know it's guarding something? Polly leaned in closer.

"We just want to know who Nicholas Flamel is, that's all," said Hermione.

"Unless you'd like to tell us and save us the trouble?" Harry added. "We must've been though hundreds of books already and we can't find him anywhere – just give us a hint – I know I've read his name somewhere."

Funnily enough, Polly recognized Flamel's name too, but not from reading. She must have heard it before. Maybe Dumbledore might have mentioned him. She waited patiently for Hagrid's answer but he was stubborn. "I'm sayin' nothin'"

"Just have to find out for ourselves, then," said Ron, and they left Hagrid looking disgruntled.

"Polly!" McGonagall called from across the room. Polly peered around the fully lit tree to see what the Professor wanted. Another crate of wreaths had arrived and Polly focused less on Flamel and more on decorating.

Once the holidays had started, Polly was having too good a time to working about who Flamel might be, three-headed dogs, and Snape's strange behavior. She never did ask Dumbledore any of her questions. Instead, they went back to focusing on wandless magic. Soon enough, bluebell flames could shoot from her fingertips.

"Wonderful, wonderful," Dumbledore congratulated her. "Tell me, Polly, how is your logic?"

This was an odd question, she furrowed her eyebrows. "My logic?"

"Yes, you see, even the most powerful wizard can amount to nothing if without a sense of logic."

"I'm not sure, sir," she replied.

"Well, let me give you a riddle, then." Dumbledore sat at his desk and examined her over his half-moon spectacles. "What comes at the beginning of the end, at the end of time, and twice during the week?"

She sat down in the chair across from him and frowned. What kind of a question was this? No one could know what will happen at the end of time or at the beginning of the end of time. Although, to be honest, Polly wouldn't put it past Dumbledore to know something like that. Still, no one had ever asked her a question like this before. She'd certainly never come across a question like this in all her books. She decided to simplify the question. What came twice during the week, another question that stumped her. Two days that started with S? Two days that started with T? Well they canceled each other out. Weekends? That didn't make sense. What about her only life? Well, Peeves generally popped out at her about twice a week, but that wasn't consistent enough to answer a question, was it? And would Peeves be there at the beginning of the end and the end of time? She chuckled to herself. No doubt Peeves would probably be the cause of the end. Rather than embarrass herself with her silly answer, however, Polly admitted she gave up.

Professor Dumbledore smiled. "The letter E." Polly felt her face turn red with embarrassment anyway. Of course it would be so simple. Dumbledore comforted her. "Trust me when I say this, Polly, I have asked that question nearly a dozen times to many of my well-esteemed friends and even they could not figure it out. I, too, had a hard time about it, but after writing it down in front of me, stumbled into enlightenment."

Her jaw dropped open. Something about Dumbledore admitting he almost couldn't do something shocked her, plus the fact that many of Dumbledore's friends were powerful witches and wizards. She did not feel so bad anymore. "Friends like who?" she asked out of curiosity.

"Oh, various Ministry workers, inventors, alchemists."

"Alchemists?" Polly knew of alchemy. There had been a time she'd been fascinated by it and the study of the four basic elements after finding books about it in the Malfoy library. It still intrigued her to an extent. If Dumbledore knew a modern alchemist, she would be very much interested to learn more.

"Yes," Dumbledore stroked his beard. "An old friend of mine, Nicholas Flamel."

Nicholas Flamel! Polly _knew_ she'd heard that name before. Dumbledore must have said that name dozens of times when writing his letters. He always muttered out loud when he wrote. So Flamel is an alchemist. But what did alchemy have to do with Fluffy? Unless… Hagrid did mention the dog was guarding something. It was guarding something of Flamel's or something of alchemic value? What's of alchemic value? Why didn't she go home with Draco and back to the Malfoy library where she could look all this up? Not that she would have known now if she'd left days ago… Maybe the Hogwarts library had something. She could check later. Perhaps tomorrow, Christmas, when no one else would be around. What did all of this have to do with Snape's strange behavior? Or was that just a coincidence?

"Polly?" Her thoughts bubble burst and she noticed the concerned headmaster was holding something out to her. A cloak?

She gently took it from him. "Sorry, sir. What?"

"I asked if you would wrap that for me and deliver it to the Gryffindor common room."

"Of course…" she studied the item in her hands. A shiny, silvery, fluid-like cloth. Her eyes widened. Could it be? She draped the cloak over her hand and it vanished. "An invisibility cloak?"

Dumbledore chuckled. "A gift for young Harry. It used to be his father's, as I understand. Fascinating, is it not?" Fascinating was an understatement. Polly was jealous. How did Harry's father happen to come across an item so rare? So useful? Dumbledore also gave her a note written in his loopy handwriting.

_Your father left this in my possession before_

_he died. It is time it was returned to you._

_Use it well._

_A Very Merry Christmas to you._

"See that it is enclosed."

"Shouldn't you sign it?" she asked.

"And have others jealous because they didn't receive a rare gift from the headmaster?" He gave her a knowing look that said he noticed the glint of green in her own eyes. "I trust you will keep this a secret between the two of us?"

She nodded, "Of course." then retreated to her room to wrap the cloak in a simple paper. She gave the parcel to Hazel, instructing her to deliver it to the Gryffindor common room and be very careful with it, then changed into warm pajamas and crawled into bed.

Christmas morning, Polly awoke to a small mound of presents near the foot of her bed. She didn't hesitate to break into them. The first, from Dumbledore, was a book of logic riddles. Confused, Polly still chuckled at the headmaster's spontaneity and assumed that whatever he gave her had a purpose that she would learn sooner or later. She was surprised to find a gift from Professor Snape as well. A wizard chess set that left her more confused than any of Dumbledore's antics combined. A note came with that.

_Practice just in case, but stay out of trouble. Have a Merry Christmas._

_Professor Snape_

Just in case of what and what trouble could she get into with a game? She shook her head and put the set aside. An envelope was next on top from the Malfoys, written in Lucius's handwriting.

_As you will not be attending the annual __family__ cotillion, it is obvious to us that you do not value your family or bloodline. We hope you understand that, likewise, we could not give you a gift of great value in return. Learn your loyalties and perhaps your holiday there might come close to the festive time we shall have here. Signed Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy_

Inside the envelope were two Knuts which she tossed across the room, scaring Macatee. As if she was going to have a terrible time here. As if she even needed their measly gift! She had half a mind to tear her aunt's new dress apart the moment she got home. Not even. She'd send word to Dobby tonight to have it "mysteriously disappear." As for Lucius's new cufflinks? Yes, those could fall down a drain. Most definitely. Dobby would see to it this afternoon, before their party began. She did hope Draco enjoyed his box of Every Flavor Beans, though, and the new flying goggles so that he could ride his broomstick in rough, snowy weather.

In return, he'd given her a nice, green and white dress. Probably hoping she'd change her mind and attend the party tonight so that he wouldn't be "bored." Draco did have good taste, though, for an eleven year old boy. She slipped out of her pajamas and into the dress. A perfect fit. Okay, so maybe he'd gotten help from one of the house elves. It did look nice, though. The green silk and white fir hem swished around just past her knees. The collar was turtleneck-like, keeping her throat warm, but had elegant white buttons all the way down her back (which she had had a heck of a time fastening), and the long sleeves had the same kind of white fir around her wrists. It was quite possibly the nicest gift she had ever gotten from her cousin. Perhaps he missed her more than she gave him credit for.

All she needed were a pair of white stockings underneath to keep her legs warm, and then the green shoes she'd used year after year for every Malfoy party – green was a family color, obviously. After these were slipped on and she combed her hair – which had quickly grown to her shoulder by now – back into a simple white headband, Polly put on her glasses. Obviously, she looked much better without them, but the glasses weren't too much of a hassle anymore. She had grown accustomed to them now, as if they were another part of her body.

She did like the way the ensemble looked on her. Very Christmas-like. Very Malfoy Christmas-like, but the white set her apart. Malfoys rarely used white when they could use silver or black.

By now it must have been near noon, the first time in her lifetime Polly had slept in so late. She bounded out her bedroom, letting Mac loose just this once, wished Fawkes a happy Christmas who cooed in reply, and woke all the portraits up with a loud, excited "Merry Christmas!" A few of them cursed at her, while others laughed and wished her the same. Polly twirled around in her new dress and ran out of Dumbledore's office, not even bothering to remember her coat, which she would most likely regret later, but figured if she could make it to the Great Hall, it'd be warm enough.

The smell of a hundred fat, roast turkeys wafted toward her nose. She was just outside the doors to the Great Hall when a snowball hit the back of her head. Polly whirled around. It was Peeves who cackled and was already onto his next target: George Weasley. He was hit square in the face but his brother jumped out from behind Peeves and surprise attacked the poltergeist with a snowball of his own. Peeves zoomed away from the twins as quickly as he could. Polly was only able to tell the two apart by the large yellow letters, F and G, on their blue, homemade sweaters. At least, they certainly looked homemade, and Polly actually felt a twinge of jealousy.

George wiped the slush from his face and looked at her. "Don't worry, first year," he smirked. "we've got your back."

First year? Didn't they know who she was? Of course, she hadn't been wearing her glasses at the time. And her hair was shorter then. It surprised her how big of a difference these two small things had on her overall appearance. Should she tell them? Why not? They'd be seeing her next year. "Thank you," she replied. "And hello again to you two."

They both looked confused. "Hello _again_?" they said together.

"Polly Smiles, remember?" she shrugged. Their faces lit up with the sudden recognition. "Fred and George, right?"

"Gred and Forge, actually," Fred winked. Polly laughed.

"We didn't know you were a first year," said George.

"Don't remember your name at the sorting, either." Fred squinted. "Not that we ever really pay attention to _all_ the names."

"Yours should have stuck out, though. What house are you in?"

Fred indicated her dress. "Slytherin by the apparel, brother."

Polly shook her head. "Not exactly."

"Well, couldn't be Gryffindor."

"We would have seen you."

"Exactly."

"Smart, though."

"Smart aura."

"Ravenclaw?" they said simultaneously.

Polly giggled again. "Nope."

They looked at each other with a smile. "Puff?" they said simultaneously again.

"I'm not in any house," she admitted. "Think of me as a special guest for the year."

They frowned. "Well," George said, "you're making our brains hurt, so we'll play along."

"But only because it's Christmas," Fred added. "And if we find out you're a Slytherin…" The twins folded their arms in perfect synchronization. "…watch out."

Polly laughed and nodded. "If you learn that I'm a lying snake, Peeves may hit me with all the snowballs he pleases." 

Fred and George laughed at this and gave her a friendly push on her shoulders. "You know," George told his brother, "she may be the first Slytherin I actually like."

"I still think she's a 'puff," Fred joked.

"See you, Smiles." they called out together and joined the rest of their brothers and Harry at the Gryffindor table. Polly took her usual seating at Dumbledore's side. The Christmas dinner was the best she'd ever had. Potatoes, chipolatas, buttered peas, thick rich gravy and cranberry sauce, and wizard crackers! Polly pulled a wizard cracker with Dumbledore and left behind a flowered bonnet which Dumbledore humbly swapped his pointed wizard's hat for. Polly couldn't stop laughing. By the end of dinner, she'd forgotten all about missing the Malfoy cotillion and a lurking Fluffy on the third floor. Dumbledore did mention Flamel once or twice though, when talking to Professor Flitwick, making Polly remember her planned visit to the library today to study up on her alchemy.

When everyone was too drunk and full and tired to notice, Polly slipped out of the Hall and made her way towards the library. The dress and stockings let in some cool air, but not enough to freeze. She did wish she'd remembered her gloves, though. She pulled the fir cuffs over her hands and used her visible breath to keep them warm. Like she predicted, there were very few people in the library and soon enough, very few turned to none. Even Madam Pince left without checking to make sure everyone had left, or maybe she wanted to enjoy what was left of her Christmas in a hurry. Polly sat and read through all sorts of modern alchemy books, not once coming across Nicholas Flamel's name which she found very odd.

It must have been going on midnight. Polly huddled in the chair in the back corner of the library, where she was sure no one would be able to find her. Moonlight, her only source of reading light, poured though the window on her side while she read and munched on the toffees Dobby and Tippy sent her.

Then a light appeared across the room. Polly sank further into her chair and hid her face behind the large book, expecting it was Filch making his rounds, but it wasn't Filch. It wasn't even a person. It was… Polly squinted through her glasses… a lamp? A floating lamp? No, there was something holding the lamp up. She caught sight of a few fingers at the top. _Harry_. Making good use of his Christmas gift, no doubt. Probably searching for Nicholas Flamel. Well she wished him good luck, because it was looking hopeless. She couldn't find him in any of the books in the library. Of course…

Harry stepped over the rope that separated the Restricted Section from the rest of the library. _Of course_. Why didn't she think of that? Probably because she was terrified to break any rule before ever getting into Hogwarts, but under the cloak Harry could read as long as he liked without being seen. He set the lamp carefully on the floor and pulled a large black and silver volume off the shelf. It fell open and let out a piercing, bloodcurdling shriek that split the silence. Polly knocked her own book off her lap and covered her ears with her cold, cold hands.

Harry snapped it shut at once, but the scream echoed about the nearly empty library. He must have stumbled backward because the lamp knocked itself over and went out at once. Then Polly heard footsteps coming down the corridor outside – the book found its way back onto itself and then Polly caught glimpse of a foot making its way under Filch's outstretched arm. Filch, on the other hand, ran for a portrait in the wall and though a secret passage. Polly decided now was the time to leave.

She left everything where it was, even the toffees, and ran out the library. Her visible breath puffed in front of her as she ran through the corridors and then straight into… Snape. Filch stood next to Snape with a furious look. Polly felt the blood drain from her face. "Where were you just now, Miss Smiles?"

There was no getting out of this one. Maybe, even, it would get them off Harry's trail. She looked down as remorsefully as possible. "Library, sir."

"In the Restricted Section?"

Dumbledore had gotten her out of trouble before, hadn't he? "Yes, sir."

"Looking for?"

She winced. "Advanced potions?"

Snape sighed. Somehow, Polly knew he didn't buy her story but didn't want her in trouble either. "You're an excellent student, Polly, but I suggest you stick to your first year potions and if these still don't suit you, ask me first and I will find something more challenging."

"Yes, sir."

"_Stay out of trouble_." He emphasized, clearly referring to what he'd written on his Christmas card.

"Yes, sir."

"To bed."

She brushed past him and an argumentative Filch who, once again, had to watch Polly get out of trouble. Polly had a feeling Filch would be watching her every second of next year when Polly was officially enrolled. She hoped Harry made it to his bed okay, though.

The next couple of days were filled with catching up with the first years and watching Harry at every meal time, who seemed off. Dumbledore noticed too, and for once, Polly was completely honest with him. She told him how she'd been fascinated by his mention of alchemy and wanted to read about it Christmas night. How Harry had used his invisibility cloak to search the Restricted Section and then disappeared somewhere that night.

"I see," Dumbledore smiled, probably already knowing all of this _and_ why Harry was so distraught. "Do you still have your pendant?"

"Of course."

"Put it on, take off your glasses, and change into your black robes. I'd like you to join me on my stroll tonight."

When Polly came out of her bedroom she was much taller again. Her hair reached the small of her back again and was that golden brown color. Her skin was pale, her violet eyes revealed, and her body too old for her mentality. "Shall we?" Dumbledore led her out of the office. They came across an unused classroom where stood a magnificent mirror, as high as the ceiling, with an ornate gold frame, standing on two clawed feet. An inscription read: _Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi._ In front of the mirror sat a fixed Harry.

"Wait here," Dumbledore instructed Polly quietly and then walked forward to sit on a desk. "So – back again, Harry?" Dumbledore asked while Polly stood by the door solemnly with her hands folded and her head down, not making eye contact with Harry.

"I – I didn't see you, sir."

"Strange how nearsighted being invisible can make you," Dumbledore smiled. "So," sat on the floor with Harry, "you, like hundreds before you, have discovered the delights of the Mirror of Erised."

"I didn't know it was called that, sir."

"I didn't know it was called that either," Polly muttered under her breath. Dumbledore cleared his throat politely as if he'd heard her, and he probably had, instructing her to stay quiet for now, then returned to his conversation with Harry.

"But I expect you've realized by now what it does?"

"It – well – it shows me my family –"

"And it showed your friend Ron himself as head boy."

"How did you know –"

"I don't need a cloak to become invisible," said Dumbledore gently. Polly made a mental note to ask Dumbledore to teach her how to do that one day. "Now, can you think what the Mirror of Erised shows us all?" Harry didn't say anything. "Let me explain," Dumbledore continued. "The happiest man on earth would be able to use the Mirror of Erised like a normal mirror, that is, he would look into it and see himself exactly as he is. Does that help?"

It most certainly did for Polly. The word "erised" was mentally written down in her head. Dumbledore was right. Writing things out did help. "Erised" was "desire" spelled backwards. She looked at the inscription again and read it backwards. _I show not your face but your heart's desire_.

Harry said slowly. "It shows us what we want… whatever we want…"

"Yes and no," said Dumbledore quietly. "It shows us nothing more or less than the deepest, most desperate desire of our hearts. You, who have never known your family, see them standing around you." Polly was touched by this. She could only imagine how that must feel. Now she wanted to stand in front of the mirror and view her family for the first time as well. She was sure her family would be what she would see, too. "However," Dumbledore warned just in time for Polly to regain her sense, "this mirror will give us neither knowledge nor truth. Men have wasted away before it, entranced by what they have seen, or been driven mad, not knowing if what it shows is real or even possible.

"The Mirror will be moved to a new home tomorrow, Harry, and I ask you not to go looking for it again. If you ever _do_ run across it, you will now be prepared. It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, remember that. Now, why don't you put that admirable cloak back on and get off to bed?"

Harry stood up. "Sir – Professor Dumbledore? Can I ask you something?"

"Obviously, you've just done so," Dumbledore smiled. "You may ask me one more thing, however."

Polly smirked.

"What do you see when you look in the mirror?"

Now Polly raised an eyebrow, interested in the headmaster's reply.

"I? I see myself holding a pair or thick, woolen socks. Once can never have enough socks. Another Christmas has come and gone and I didn't get a single pair. People will insist on giving me books."

Harry accepted this and left the room through the opposite door and Polly felt it safe to approach Dumbledore. She squinted at him, filled with the confidence the pendant gave her. "You lied," she accused. "I asked you only a few days before Christmas what you wanted and you asked for socks. I gave you socks for Christmas."

"It _is_ a personal question, Miss Smiles. Forgive me, but there are things about a headmaster a student shouldn't know."

Alright, she would allow him that. She was curious, however… "Sir, might I look in the mirror. Just this once before it is moved?"

Dumbledore nodded and stood aside. Polly faced the mirror head on and saw her eleven year old self reflected back, but without glasses and with her long golden brown hair, but didn't see her parents. Instead she saw Draco, laughing alongside her and her friends, Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Polly's reflection wore school robes that had the Gryffindor crest on them. So this is what her deepest desire was. To be a Gryffindor. To be accepted into the trio she admired from afar and for the three of them to get along with her only other friend, her cousin. It made perfect sense. Everyone accepting each other. For _Polly_ to feel accepted. Yes, she could not lie with the mirror, even if she _had_ desperately wanted to see her parents.

Finally she pried her eyes off of the happy scene and Dumbledore seemed to know exactly what she saw. "I'm afraid you'll have to wait for next year," he told her, "to see how it all plays out."

**AN: I feel like that was my longest chapter yet, but I didn't have any problem writing it. It was very easy actually and I really enjoyed this one. Let me know what you think!**


	13. The Sorcerer's Stone

**AN: So I just had the best birthday ever. Was also casted in my school's upcoming fall musical singing **_**the**_** most gorgeous song in the show and I'm back with more fanfiction. Ready?**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or its characters. I love J.K. Rowling and everything she's given me. Some dialogue and description in this chapter belong to Ms. Rowling.**

Chapter Thirteen – The Sorcerer's Stone

The Christmas holidays had ended and now the halls were buzzing with Quidditch odds. Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff. Despite the bad rap always associated with their house, Hufflepuff did have a pretty decent Quidditch team. It would surely be a close match. Everyone wanted to see it. Even Snape came into Dumbledore's office one afternoon, requesting if he, personally, could referee the match. The professor and headmaster exchanged a few quick words until even Dumbledore, who Polly had thought was at Harry's first game but wasn't, decided he would attend as well.

"To make sure Harry stays safe this time?" she asked the two wizards.

Dumbledore nodded. "And to make sure a fair game is played…" he eyed Snape in particular.

Professor Snape scowled. "The Gryffindor team, particularly the Weasley beaters, is reckless, headmaster."

"And, as I understand it, there's a chance a new house might emerge with the House Cup this year," Dumbledore chuckled. "Relieving Slytherin of their long-term hold on it? But I trust you will remain unbiased, Severus."

Even Polly didn't believe that would happen. Snape didn't seem to like Harry very much. She couldn't imagine why, unless Snape was more like her uncle and his friend than he let on. But, in all honesty, Slytherin could keep their title another year if it meant Harry would stay safe.

It was kind of ridiculous, Polly considered, how protective she'd gotten of Harry and never even being properly introduced to him, but maybe it all had to do with her heart's deepest desire. She wanted to be introduced to Harry. She wanted to be a part of his circle of friends. She didn't want Draco's bullying or her lineage ruining these chances.

Maybe she was selfish. Maybe she was only protecting her future happiness, rather than Harry. Well, wouldn't that be very Malfoy of her? Now she was confusing and depressing herself. Why could she be a decent person without wondering if family bloodline was related? _Learn your loyalties_, Lucius had written. The Mirror of Erised had told her where her loyalties lie, hadn't it? With Gryffindor. With Harry, Hermione, and Ron. But it still seemed strange the mirror would show her this when she barely knew them.

Polly met Draco in the library later that evening for a game of Wizard's Chess, surprised to see him there alone, without Crabbe and Goyle. "What happened to your pet trolls?" she asked him.

"Eating," Draco replied, not looking up from his enormous old book. "Where else?"

She sat in the chair across from him. "Something the matter?"

"On the contrary," Draco smirked, "you missed me cursing Longbottom. I can't believe that oaf made it into Gryffindor."

Polly sighed. "You're terrible."

"I'm a Malfoy," he replied.

"What curse did you use?"

"Leg-Locker," he laughed to himself. "Read about it in this history book of some sort. Been around for centuries."

"Let me see that book," she reached over the table and he dropped it into her open palms. The book was quite heavy.

"Go ahead," he shrugged. "There's an extra copy around here anyway." Draco left to go talk to Madam Pince while Polly looked through the index for any subject she'd be interested in. Her finger stopped at one particular name. _Nicolas Flamel_.

Her eyes widened and she flipped there quickly. He was only listed on one page, but it was her best chance. Draco slumped back into his seat. "Stupid Granger checked out the only other copy. How many books does she need, anyway? Give me my book back."

"It isn't _your_ book." Polly shushed him. "Hang on."

"I was reading it first and, anyway, I thought we were going to play chess."

"I said, hang on, Draco. I'll only be a second."

He continued his impatient groaning. "Polly…"

"Yes, here it is! Draco, listen to this!"

"What are you –"

"_The ancient study of alchemy is concerned with making the Sorcerer's Stone, a legendary substance with astonishing powers. The stone will transform any metal into pure gold. It also produces the Elixir of Life, which will make the drinker immortal._"

"Any metal into _gold_?" Now Draco was interested.

"Shh," she quieted him and spoke softer. "_There have been many reports of the Sorcerer's Stone over the centuries, but the only Stone currently in existence belongs to Mr. Nicolas Flamel, the noted alchemist and opera lover. Mr. Flamel, who celebrated his six hundred and sixty-fifth birthday last year, enjoys a quiet life in Devon with his wife, Perenell (six hundred and fifty-eight). _It all makes sense now."

"What does?"

"Why I couldn't find Flamel in any modern alchemy books or what that do–" Polly stopped herself before she mentioned Fluffy. While she trusted Draco with many secrets, there was no telling what he might do if he knew there was a three-headed dog in the castle. "Well," she made quick recovery, "it just gave me more information on him. Needed it for a report Dumbledore's having me write."

Draco frowned and snatched the book back from Polly's hands. Underestimating the weight, the book fell onto the table between them with a loud thud. Madam Pince gave the two of them a look. When she turned back around, Draco gave her a mocking look back. "Well, anyway," he drawled, turning back to Polly, "that's rotten luck for you then. We don't have any reports to write like that."

Polly shrugged and half-played the game/half-listened to her cousin go on about how Gryffindor has to lose the next Quidditch match while they set up their chess game, but inside her mind was focused on other matters. The Sorcerer's Stone was hidden here in the castle beyond that three-headed dog.

She ended up losing to Draco.

Come the morning of the Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff Quidditch match, Polly took her seating by Professor Dumbledore this time. Snape looked angry as he marched onto the field and started the game. Not even a minute into the game, Snape awarded Hufflepuff a penalty because one of the Weasley twins hit a bludger near him. Polly groaned, hiding her face in her lap. Far above the stadium, Harry scanned the air for any glint of gold.

Snape awarded Hufflepuff another penalty for no reason at all, and then suddenly Harry had gone into a spectacular dive, which drew gasps and cheers from the crowd. Polly stood and clapped with them as he streaked toward the ground like a bullet, and then was drawn away from the action by a commotion over by a large group of Gryffindors and was that…? Yes, it was. Draco and Ron Weasley, unmistakable given their platinum and red hair, in a scuffle while Hermione screamed at Harry.

Harry sped straight at Snape who turned on his broomstick just in time to see something scarlet shoot past him, missing him by inches – the next second, Harry had pulled out of the dive, his arm raised in triumph, the Snitch clasped in his hand.

The stands erupted; it had to be a record, no one could ever remember the Snitch being caught so quickly.

Dumbledore had already left his seat and was walking onto the field. Harry jumped off his broom, a foot from the grown. Gryffindors came spilling onto the field. Snape landed, white-faced and tight-lipped. Dumbledore placed a hand on Harry shoulder to congratulate him.

Snape spat bitterly on the ground.

Polly was in such a good mood for the rest of that evening. Harry had won Gryffindor enough points to pass Slytherin in the race for the House Cup and she felt almost envious of him, to have done something famous for himself.

In her bedroom, Polly played a couple games of Wizard's Chess by herself when she heard low voices outside her door. She opened it just a crack and peeked out. Snape was stressing over something to Dumbledore.

"He hasn't learned how to get past the beast yet," Snape muttered, "but it's only a matter of time, sir. Please, let's move the Stone before it's too late. A _child_ could get through the protective enchantments if they –"

"Severus," Dumbledore held his hand up to silence him. "Everything is going according to plan. I assure you the Sorcerer's Stone is safe."

At this, Polly shut the door quietly and let her chessmen rest. Snape thought someone was trying to steal the stone, but who? Who was trying to learn how to get past Fluffy? A sudden thought occurred to her. Harry and his friends were very interested in all of this. Surely, they weren't considering stealing from Professor Dumbledore and Nicolas Flamel. No, that would be very stupid, but then she thought of Draco's reaction to when he heard about the Sorcerer's Stone. It was a valuable object. Snape did say a child could get through the protective enchantments if they knew how to get past Fluffy.

Now Polly was sorely confused. And worried.

**AN: *insert clever note about how much I love your reviews…***


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